The Soul Alchemist
by BrowncoatGrl
Summary: Roy has a confession to make. Al has a crush. And Ed still has a burden to bear.
1. Family

**A/N: So, I've tried writing this a few times and quickly realized it just wasn't working. Third time's the charm, so I hope... Post series in the manga, so it may/may not have some spoilers in there. Just be awares...**

* * *

Al ran. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest, the sound of heavy, flesh and bone feet hitting the tiled floor. His arms pumped in synchronous time with his legs and his flushed cheeks were just a sure sign of how fast he'd sprinted. He'd gotten news that Edward had been in trouble, that something had come up. And he'd never run faster in his life to find the person who'd alerted him to the situation.

Rounding a corner, he barreled head-on into another person. They both tumbled and he landed on top of them, pushing himself back up and away the moment after he braced his fall.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, miss," he said quickly, breathless.

Her brow furrowed, one hand reaching around to her back which had broken her fall, "No, I'm terribly sorry, it's my fault."

He blushed a bit, smiled, and stood, offering her a hand. She took it and he was grateful for the warmth he felt there.

"I was the one running," he admitted timidly.

She stood, standing toe to toe with him and hiding a small flinch from the fall. She retrieved her hand quickly, her eyes darting around before she leaned down to pick up the heavy coat she'd dropped. Al reached for it faster, offering it to her. She gave a weak little smile and cautiously accepted it.

"I really am sorry about that," he apologized again.

"Where were you off to in such a hurry?" she folded her coat over her arms before crossing her arms over her stomach.

"I got a call from a friend. Kind of a family emergency, I guess."

"I do hope everything's all right," she met his eyes sincerely.

He nodded. Her eyes were deep, black obsidian, but her hair was soft cream. Not blonde, but more of a white. It looked to be a stark contrast between her eyes and the rest of her; ivory skin, pale hair...she looked almost like a ghost. But healthy, vivacious, with a rosy sheen to her cheeks. He blushed a bit more.

"Me, too," he rubbed the back of his head.

"Well, I was a bit lost. Could you point me in the right direction before you start off again?"

"Of course. The least I can do."

"I was looking for Lieutenant-Colonel Mustang."

Al blinked, "Roy? You know him?"

"Yes. Is he around?"

"I was on my way to see him. But he's not a Lieutenant-Colonel anymore. He's a Major-General."

Her exhausted eyes went wide and she stared at him for a moment, "He's been promoted."

"Yeah. Here, I can lead you."

Her shock slightly worn off, she nodded. Walking fast but not fast enough to cause her trouble, he quickly fell back into the path he'd set upon, directly to Roy Mustang's door. He glanced at the young lady. He'd seen her eyes, so similar at least. She couldn't have been very much older than he and brother, at least not by more than a few years, at least. She looked thin and petite, even more so with her large coat blocking most of her front.

"So, how do you know the Major-General?" he asked.

She remained silent for a moment before looking at him, "We're old friends. Of sorts."

" 'Of sorts'?" Al asked.

"Well, he may not even remember me any more if I'm lucky."

Al's face was caught between amusement and concern, "Well, he's right down this hall. And I'm sure he couldn't forget someone like you."

She looked at him, genuine joy in her eyes even with a placid face. He blushed again and just kept walking. Getting to the giant doors which opened into the main office, he braced an open palm on one before yanking the other open. Pulling the large door aside, he stepped in.

"SURPRISE!"

He was forced back a step by the sheer volume of the voices that greeted him in unison. His heart beating loud between his ears, he stared in shock at the decorations that littered the main office. Bright colors with streamers and ribbons and banners that all read "Happy Birthday'. He smiled to see not only Edward, but the others, laughing at his no-doubt-priceless shocked face.

Ed walked over to him, "Got'cha."

He sighed, "Brother...did you plan all this?"

"Nah, it was Havoc's idea. Something about needing an excuse to party."

Al gave a weak little chuckle and moved forward into the room while the other soldiers greeted him with back-slaps and smiles and laughs. And when Roy came forward, a smile on his face, Al remembered.

"Oh, yeah! General, I met a friend of yours on the way here," he gestured back to the single open door where the young lady remained half-hidden.

It was instantaneous. Roy pulled out a gloved-hand from his pocket. He outstretched it with thumb and middle finger poised to snap. Al looked between the general and the young lady only to see her face downtrodden, hopefulness cast aside.

The party froze and Hawkeye was second to draw her weapon of choice, aiming it squarely at the lady in the doorway. Ed walked to Al's side and followed his gaze.

"Mustang? What's gotten into you?" he asked.

Roy paid him no mind, only focused on the woman, "Let me see your hands," he said softly, danger and authority and anger riddling his otherwise quiet voice.

She nodded and let her coat drop to the floor. Her open palms faced the room, bare.

"Why did you come back?" he asked harshly.

"I wanted to go home—"

"You don't have a home here!"

"—and seeing as how it was burned down, I thought I'd come ask you why," she finished.

"General, who is she?" Al asked.

He went ignored as Roy took a step closer to her, hand still outstretched, "Leave. Now."

"Roy..."

"You heard him," Hawkeye snapped, her gun cocking.

"I got word that you were promoted. Congratulations," she said gently.

"You leave or I will attack," he threatened.

She gave a defeated little shrug, "Go ahead."

Al's heart sped up again, his voice absent to think that the Major-General might actually—

_Snap_.

Al stared in silent shock as the single dart of flame lept across the room, finding her. She remained motionless even when the flames engulfed her. Her eyes and Roy's never parted. But the painful cries Al expected never came from her. She never wavered. Her body was never touched even with the flames surrounding her. Confused and entranced, Al watched the flames wither out, die and he had the distinct impression from Mustang's furrowed brow that it hadn't happened because the Major-General was showing mercy.

The young lady stood there as the last of the flames wilted. Roy's hand still outstretched, the flicker of doubt crossed his features. Seeing the Major-General, his flames, defeated without a second thought, the other soldiers in the room followed Hawkeye's lead. The sound of cocked barrels, one after another, made Al snap out of his reverie.

The young lady's face never showed anything more than timid tiredness, "I didn't come here...for anything, Roy. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I heard the rumors about Bradley. I just wanted to make sure you were safe."

Mustang let his outstretched hand drop, but his hateful eyes never wavered, "Leave before I order them to fire. You can't stop bullets."

She nodded, turning away and picking up her coat. Pausing, she gave one longing look over her shoulder at him, "If Maes were here, you'd listen."

Her words sliced Roy's posture like a knife and he wavered. His eyes, hateful, turned to sorrow and he just watched her go. Edward shared a look with Al. Even with that look, Al knew what was going on inside his brother's head. Seeing someone diffuse alchemy without ever moving a muscle...

Ed ran after her. Al followed his brother. Roy's sorrow left as quickly as it had come.

"Fullmetal! Alphonse!"

They caught up to the young lady. Her steps were quick, methodical. Defeated.

"Hey, wait up!" Al called to her.

She turned to see him and his brother and some look of confusion darted across her face. She faced them, halting in her hasty retreat while they caught up to her.

She gave a little smile, "Well, at least you didn't run me over this time," she looked to Al, "Happy Birthday, by the way."

"Where'd you learn to do that?" Ed asked, catching his breath.

"Beg pardon?"

"Diffuse the General's alchemy. Where'd you learn to do it without a circle? Without moving?"

She swallowed, looking down, "It's all about knowing the truth," she said quietly.

"You saw it?" Ed asked eagerly.

Her eyes were quickly distrustful, her posture straightening. She crossed her arms over her front tighter, "What do you want?"

Al smiled, "I'll settle for a name. Mine's Alphonse. This is my older brother, Edward," he stretched out his hand.

She hesitated, but took it, "Amelie."

"Alphonse!" Roy's voice shattered the boy's feeling of warmth and, hand still enveloped by hers, he looked back to see the Major-General with not his trademark gloves, but a gun. Riza was still standing next to him. But the Major-General saw their connected hands and his eyes softened when he turned them on Amelie.

"You're touching him..."

She pulled her hand away quickly, tucking it tight behind the overcoat.

Ever mindful, Riza still held her gun steadily aimed while Roy's drifted downwards, "How...?" he trailed off.

"That's a good question. How did she see the Gate, Mustang?" Ed asked, eyes narrowed directly at the Flame Alchemist.

She started to walk off. Al took a step closer, "Wait—"

Her walk only continued and she ignored them. Mustang didn't chase her and Edward was too focused on the answer he wanted to mind her departure. Al, though...

Al felt cold on the inside for the first time since he'd gotten his body back.

* * *

Roy swirled the amber contents of his glass around, watching them catch the dimming lamplights. He'd never thought he'd see her again. Let alone watch her be brought to his office by Alphonse. That face...she'd grown weary of the world. Her cheerful, wide eyes had turned shallow. Her proud and blatant character had grown dim and soft. She wasn't anything like what he remembered. She wasn't...

She wasn't what he thought a murderer would look like.

His glass refilled itself and he looked at it, questioning eyes following the source of the brandy to the bottle, and the hand, which held it. Farther along, almost before he saw, he knew it was her.

Riza Hawkeye sat across from him with her long, blonde hair flowing down her shoulders. Her uniform was gone. She looked all too casual without her blue starched clothes and enamel bars. She looked almost like she belonged on his recliner while he sat on the couch.

"Who was she?" she asked softly.

Roy sighed. She was just as perceptive as Hughes had been. Only she was subtle. She was quiet. And when he'd held his hand out, sentencing Amelie to death, she'd backed him up without a second thought or a question. Only now would she ask why she'd almost killed a stranger today. When they were alone and he could answer truthfully.

"She's my sister," he scoffed.


	2. The Past

Hawkeye nodded. Roy didn't expect anything else. She was smart enough to see the resemblance between him and the young woman he'd tried to burn to a crisp.. Even Ed and Al were bound to figure it out sooner than later. Those black eyes...

"I didn't know you had a sister."

He looked back down at the tumbler that sang a promise of forgetfulness and reprieve. After all she'd done for him, after all they gone through together, she deserved to know more than just her name.

"I was ten when she was born."

* * *

Al pounded on the door again, hoping this third try would elicit some response from the occupant inside. Edward stood behind him, frowning as the oncoming rainstorm threatened his automail joints. He grit his teeth together and gave an angry little huff when Al started throwing his full fists against the door again.

"Just give it up, Al. She won't answer. We don't even know she's in there!"

Al ignored his brother. He'd asked around. The only reliable information they'd gotten was from Madame Christmas. She'd said the young woman had dropped by before leaving, unwelcome, to find another hotel. This was the only hotel where a clerk said he'd seen someone fitting Amelie's description check in. Renewed and determined, Al ignored the pattering rain that started to wet his shoulders and pounded on the door again.

"Amelie? It's me. Alphonse. I need to talk to you."

The open-air courtyard became a typhoon. The wind picked up and Ed angrily pushed Al out of the way.

"You don't open up and let us in, I'll let myself in! It's raining out here, you know!" Ed yelled.

There was still no response. Ed moved to clap his hands together and Al prepared to stop him when the deadbolt audibly turned and the door opened a little ways. The two Elrics stood there, drenched, while Amelie cocked an eyebrow at them.

She was wet, too.

Without an utterance, she stepped aside and left the door cracked. Ed pushed his way in and was grateful that the warm interior was dry and clean. Al quickly shut the door, latching it.

"We're sorry for bothering you—" he turned to face her and stopped his own sentence to see the clingy bathrobe she'd slipped on. Her hands were still crossed over her body, her eyes distrustful and suspicious.

"Why did you come here?" she asked.

"You did alchemy without a circle and without moving a muscle. I only know one thing on this earth that can do that and it wasn't something pleasant, either," Ed spat out.

She nodded, "The original homunculus."

They stared at her and Al sat down on the bed, "How..."

"I'm...I'm human. I just know."

"You said you were a friend of the General's. Why did he attack you?" Al asked.

Amelie ignored him for a moment, instead looking at his drenched clothes which were seeping down into her bed. Al followed her gaze, realized his mistake, and stood spastically.

"Sorry!"

She reached over, touched the bed, and the water was gone. It evaporated. Although it was nothing more than basic alchemy, seeing it done without clapping, without circles, made Al smile appreciatively.

"So, how do you know the General? And how can you do that?" Ed asked.

She looked at him tiredly, seemingly ignoring his question to move into the closet space of the small hotel room. Ed just looked to Al and the younger Elric shrugged. Amelie came back out a moment later in a thick blanket before curling up in the chair near the bathroom.

"I'm a murderer."

* * *

"I didn't know it at the time, but my father had another woman in his life. The woman he was with died in a car accident. The doctors were able to save the child she was carrying. My father, being her father as well, was given custody of the girl. My mother had long since passed away. It was just the three of us. And then, just the two of us. It wasn't too long after my father passed away that Madame Christmas took us in. Not too much longer after that when I started studying alchemy under your father. Amelie followed me everywhere."

* * *

_She chased after him, laughing while her big protector ran angrily away. She had the spider in her hand and Roy hated it. She found it beautiful and didn't mind the eight legs that crawled over her palm. Her big brother, though, didn't find it anywhere near as amusing. So, he ran. Ran to that house where she wasn't allowed in. Where he spent all day looking through books and playing with circles. _

_She sighed, letting the spider crawl over her hand before putting it back to the grass. She watched it move over each blade of grass, over every little hill and valley. _

_The rumble beneath her feet confused her for a moment until she saw the explosion down by the river. She'd never seen fire rise so high into the sky. Nor had she even seen her big brother run towards danger so quickly. He was bigger, but he didn't like to get involved with things like that. An old man was running afore Roy with the youngster trying to keep up. _

_Amelie ran after, trying her best to keep sight of them as they ran. _

* * *

"The explosion was my first experience with real fire. Your father didn't bother trying to be subtle. He drew his array and slowly started to extinguish the flames. That was when I knew what I wanted to be able to do with my own alchemy. I wanted to control the flames the way he did.

"But Amelie...she just stood there, ignoring everything. She was only four...maybe three...and she stood there and looked at the array on the ground and the fires died. Your father had never seen anything like it. He'd never seen fire extinguished so effortlessly. And I think that was when I started to distrust her. A child. A toddler, controlling alchemy without ever being taught how to.

"In hindsight, it wasn't right: what the military did. It had been one of their stations that had been engulfed. Seeing her end the threat, they wanted to keep her in their sights. Now, I know why. The higher-ups knew she'd seen the Gate. They knew she was one of their sacrifices. The one thing I can't ever remember is when or how she saw it.

"They sent her away. And I didn't see her again until I enlisted in the military myself. Maybe...maybe I did it so I could find her. But she found me."

* * *

_He looked different than she remembered. But that affection, that inclination for troublesome sibling antics made her smile. She had found a spider on her walks. And, just knowing she would come across him, she'd kept it in her pocket. Just like in a nursery rhyme, she sneaked up and put the spider on his shoulder. The thing had started to climb up his ear when he yelped and brushed it off, falling to the ground in the process. She laughed. She'd forgotten what it felt like to laugh. And seeing the way he was looking at her, he recognized her changed appearance the same way she did his. Those eyes were unmistakable._

_"Hey, Big Brother," she smiled. _

_"Amelie?"_

_"Got'cha."_

_He stood. He was still taller than her. Sadly, she was sure that she wouldn't ever be taller than him. She sighed and they embraced. He held her at arms length and for a moment, she forgot that he was wearing a uniform. He looked just like the eager child she remembered trailing behind. He sighed, eyes smiling._

_"You look good."_

_"So do you."_

_"I was wondering when you'd come back."_

_She looked away from him, towards the valley, towards Central, "I ran away."_

_His hands dropped from her shoulders and he stared at her, "What?"_

_"I ran away. All they want...all they ever do is make me do alchemy. And its not fun. I don't know why you'd enlist. You're afraid of spiders. How do you think a gun will compare?"_

_He gave a triumphant little smile, "I don't need guns," he declared, reaching deep into his pocket to find a box of matches and a little piece of fabric. He was quick to display just how he'd learned to throw the fire at will, how he'd managed to prevail at something she'd done naturally. The small bush he'd set alight dimmed and the fire died. She stared at it apathetically. _

_"I hate alchemy."_

_He gawked at her, "What? But...you can do it without circles, without anything!"_

_"People say that a war is coming. I don't want to be a part of it. They'll just make me use alchemy."_

_He shook his head, "No! Alchemy isn't used to kill people. We're not weapons. We're alchemists. And even...even if they wanted us to go, it would be to protect our soldiers. Our citizens."_

_She looked at him. He believed, unabashedly, that the military wouldn't use him like they'd tried to use her. She turned her gaze back on Central. It loomed, like a death camp._

* * *

"It wasn't long after that, that the Fuehrer signed Decree 3066. And we both know how well that worked out. But Amelie...she hid in the countryside. She was only eleven...and she knew better than all of us what was happening. She knew what the military would use us for.

"And, a month after I left for Ishbal, I got a letter from Madame Christmas about it. There was a manhunt for her. The papers said she'd obliterated more than a half-dozen men who'd been ordered to return her to where-ever it was they were keeping her."

* * *

_Her bed was warm; the room, quiet. She'd found it easier to sleep now that she wasn't in some government-run house. Knowing that, when she woke up, she wouldn't be forced to use alchemy. But she still didn't like being left alone. She wished, like the sun and the moon and stars, that her big brother had managed to leave the army before this. She could feel the evil beneath her feet. She could feel the rotten core of Central's gleaming heart. But he had chosen to pursue alchemy. _

_Maybe he could use it for true good._

_The door slammed open, guns pointing at her. She sat there, half-poised, in shock while they shouted at her. Her heart was jumping hard against her chest. She could hear it even over the yells and orders of the soldiers facing her. _

_One of them approached her. A middle-aged man who she was sure she'd seen at that god-forsaken place. Black hair, graying at the temples. Thin, weary eyes that spoke of misguided dreams. She shook her head silently, begging wordlessly for them to just leave._

_"You gave us quite the run," the man said. _

_She judged distances. How far, how fast, how quick. She could outrun them if she was out in the open. Hide because she knew this countryside better than they did. _

_She bolted, the back door not more than a dozen feet away. The moment she got her hands around the handle, a large hand clamped down on hers. She froze. She could feel the body heat of the man behind her. She could hear his breath as it ran down her neck._

_"I don't want to be an alchemist," she whimpered, voice so meek she could barely even hear it herself._

_"You're not an alchemist, child. You're a weapon."_

_She welded her eyes shut. With one heave, she tried to joggle his grip on the door handle and throw it open. She just had to get outside, to the open fields..._

_He took his grip from the handle only to throw the door open himself, surprising her. The edge of the door clipped her face and she fell back, blood on her face. She held her broken nose, blood dripping between her fingers. Laying on the floor, she crawled away from the one man only to feel the barrel of a gun at her back. She'd thought..._

_The man approached her, offering his hand to her, "Now, let's get that nose cleaned up. You've got to look perfect for the Fuehrer."_

_She ignored the guns behind her. Ignored the man in front of her. She wasn't about to let them take her back. _

_Kill a few to save more. She could do that. She could rationally say that she had been attacked. They weren't here to help her, weren't here to protect her. They were here to use her as a weapon. They wanted to make her kill. _

_She would kill. _

* * *

"I was interrogated. They threatened to put me in front of the firing squad. But the higher-ups called it off. I was still useful as the Flame Alchemist. And that's where they wanted my loyalty to lie. Not to her, to them. And it did. I became their "Hero of Ishbal". I was a weapon.

"For all that time, I didn't know what had happened to her. I wondered if the military had caught up with her. If they'd managed to subdue her. During Ishbal, I had friends look for her. No one had seen her. Once again, she'd disappeared."

* * *

_The man afore her screamed. The soldiers behind her screamed. She wasn't sure what she was doing, or how she was doing it, but she knew they were dying. She could feel the peace of alchemy as the energy rippled through her. Her broken nose healed, her body calmed. She felt tranquil. She felt the beauty of eternity, how it called to her. The ability she'd always had was more obvious. She knew, instinctively, that this was taboo. What she was doing. But her mind and body felt at peace even if her heart broke in two for those who were losing their lives. _

_Opening her eyes, she saw nothing but white. She touched her nose, found it healed, and looked around. There wasn't anyone around. _

_"Oi!"_

_She spun. Where a moment ago had been no one, a white figure now lounged, looking at her without eyes. The voice was a cacophony of sounds. Not one voice, but all voices._

_She stared at it, "Where are we?"_

_"You should know. You've been here before."_

_She shook her head, speechless._

_"That mortal brain really does limit you, doesn't it? You don't remember a single thing."_

_"What are you talking about?"_

_"Your mother."_

_Her brow furrowed._

* * *

"And, once again, she found me. A letter. Nothing more. She wrote that she'd done what she had to do. And that she wasn't sorry. She talked about leaving, going somewhere the government couldn't find her. And I...I never wanted to know more. Because it meant putting my career at risk. She'd been labeled a traitor. They called her the Soul Alchemist. I got the headlines. And maybe that was when I hated her. Truly hated her. What she did to those soldiers...

"It was like she'd ripped them apart from the inside."

* * *

_Her hands were clean, but she knew there was blood on them. She'd killed those soldiers. But the creature of white in front of her made it sound like more a blessing than a curse. Beyond the creature was a looming gate. Ornate, carved doors. _

_"You see? Your toll has been paid."_

_"That's why..." she looked at her hands again. _

* * *

Al watched her eyes water over a bit. She clutched at the blanket she'd pulled up to her chin. Knowing who'd been running the government, and what they'd planned, neither Elric was surprised to hear what she'd undergone while in the government's control.

"So, what was your toll?" Ed asked.

She looked at him, "My mother. She was in a car accident when she was in labor. The doctors saved me...but she died. If I understand it correctly, I was in limbo. I was given a free ride when she died. And I just never knew it."

Ed shook his head, sitting up straighter, "That would explain why your alchemy...why its so advanced."

"But...if you're the General's sister, why would he attack you?" Al asked, "He must know you just defended yourself. You didn't go on some killing spree."

She pushed her gaze to the floor, "The last time I saw him, there was...there was a fight. And, without meaning to, I hurt someone."

* * *

"When I got home from Ishbal, she found me. That time, I saw firsthand what she could do. I can't even remember why we were fighting. Maes was there; he tried to break us apart. And I don't know what she did, or how she did it, but she touched him. Pushed him aside. He almost died. Her face..."

* * *

_She stood, hands clutched to her own front. She hadn't meant to do alchemy. Hadn't meant to inflict such pain on someone so undeserving of it. She backed away while the bespectacled man convulsed on the ground._ _Roy knelt next to him, trying desperately to stop the spasms. He looked at her, fear and condemnation on his face. _

_"What did you do?" he yelled at her. _

_She shook her head, "I'm sorry...I didn't...I'm sorry."_

_He lunged at her._

* * *

"And like a true idiot, I grabbed her. Whatever she'd done to Maes, it started to happen to me. I felt my chest go solid, my heart stop. I couldn't breathe, couldn't stand. I think she was screaming for help. No...I know she was. And maybe I should be grateful that she did. The MPs showed up. We got carted off to some hospital or another. When Maes came around, he proposed to Gracia. She'd been sitting with him the whole time. I...I think Amelie got arrested...I can't remember. She must've broken herself from jail. I never thought I'd see her again."

* * *

Al looked at his own hand, unsure. He still felt like she was holding it. Like her warm skin was pressed against his palm. He looked back at her. She looked so frail, so weak. His brow furrowed. To be able to kill someone without ever meaning to, with just a stray touch...

"That's why the General yelled when you took my hand," he said softly.

"He has every right to distrust me. What I did..."

"It was an accident, from the way it sounds," Al defended her.

He could see already that it didn't matter. She felt guilty. And nothing he said would change that. Her cheeks were wet. Her eyes and nose were red. Her white knuckles gripped the edge of the blanket.

"What kind of alchemical reaction is it?" Ed asked, ever the inquisitive one.

She gave a choked little sob, "They called me the Soul Alchemist in the reports. Because, alchemically, I separated souls from the bodies they belonged to. I split people. The body can't survive without a soul. The reaction is violent. Or, it can be."

Both Ed and Al's eyes got a little wider. This woman...

They'd read about her. They'd heard stories. She was like a ghost among the alchemists. Never anything concrete, never substantial. She only existed from whisper to whisper. A cautious tale told to young alchemists to keep them in line. Like some bogeyman, she would steal away those who misbehaved.

"You're Amelie Rochester?" Al asked.

She nodded.

"But...you're Mustang's sister..." Ed's brow furrowed.

"Different mothers. Different last names," she supplied, "Our father had coal eyes. So you can see the resemblance."

"It didn't happen to me," Al stated.

They both looked at him and he continued for their questioning stares, "I didn't feel anything wrong when we shook hands."

"Just like all alchemy, it has to be activated. I didn't know how to control it so well back then...and that was when I almost killed my brother."

* * *

Roy took one last sip of his amber salvation. Riza was looking at him with a soft little smile, knowing. She opened the bottle and poured herself a little more before doing the same for Roy's empty glass. He looked at it, unsure.

"Isn't it a weeknight?" he asked her idly.

She smiled, "It is."

"Aren't you supposed to discourage me from drinking lest you have to march me from my hangover at gunpoint?"

"Supposed to, sir. I think I can let this one slide."

"Because you think I'm being too hard on her, right?"

"I think that she needs her big brother. Do you even know what the Fuehrer's men might have done to her those years? Look what they put you and Edward and Alphonse through. Someone like her...I doubt they gave her any chance for a childhood."

"You know, you're supposed to understand just how dangerous she is."

"And I do. Which is why I'll pull the trigger. Only...she is your sister. And things have changed. Maybe you shouldn't condemn her just because she's condemned herself."

He glared at her, "Traitor."

"Do you want to search for her?"

"To arrest her?"

"To find her, sir," she emphasized.

He sighed heavily, shoulders slumping. He shook his head, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees, "No. She'll find me. She always does."


	3. Complications

A loud thunderclap made Al jump even as his brother and Amelie remained unfazed. Ed looked out through the window, wincing to see the strong rain that had only become more intimidating as the sun had started to set.

Amelie stood, "You boys are welcome to stay here for the night. I'm sure the rain isn't good for your automail," she said softly, looking at Edward.

He met her gaze, "How did you—"

"Know? I can feel it."

"You can feel it?" Al asked.

"Everything is connected. Me to the the ground to the bed to your brother. I can feel his aches. I can feel your speeding heart," she gave a soft smile, "I can even feel the heat in your gut."

Al blushed. He wasn't about to say anything, but the robe she had on wasn't entirely dry and still clung to her. The blanket had more substance to it. He was grateful she'd pulled that out. But that smile...She didn't even seem to care that he was blushing, or caught staring.

Ed almost rolled his eyes, "So why don't you just go to the General and explain things to him?"

"I doubt he wants to see me again."

"You're family. That has to count for something," Al added.

"Yeah, not like he has to worry about the higher-ups coming after him for being related to you. They're all dead."

"I could've killed him. I killed those soldiers. How can he forgive me for that?"

"Because you didn't kill him and what happened to those soldiers was an accident."

"It doesn't matter. He attacked me in front of his own men, and failed. He won't want to see me again. Not when I've shattered his authority like that."

Ed stood and smiled, hands on his hips, "Nah, we don't mind one bit. Seeing his ass get handed to him every once in a while is actually quite amusing."

She smiled warmly, looking to the two double beds in the room, "Well, unless you're willing to brave the storm, you can sleep here. I don't mind."

"Are you sure? We can get a taxi..." Al started.

"No, please. Stay. I'll make you some clothes. At least you'll be dry."

Ed and Al watched her walk away into the closet. Ed had started to peel off his soaking sweater when she walked back out with not only clothes on herself, but two piles of dry clothes for them. She handed off each of them and Al took his with a small bow.

"I hope they're the right size."

"I'm sure they're fine," Al said, grateful that the clothes she'd transmuted were at least warm, like they'd been baking in the sun all day long.

She left the room again, tossing back a shy smile at Al before disappearing behind the closet door.

* * *

Roy laid in his bed, forearm covering his eyes. If he'd moved it, he could see the ceiling, the posts of his massive bed. But, as it were, he couldn't. He didn't want to, either. They were empty. Empty bed. Empty room. He'd thought things would be different after they'd defeated the corrupt military that had him and his ensnared. But, really, things hadn't changed.

She still never stayed the night. Even if it was just to sleep down the hall on one of his guest bedrooms, she never stayed with him. And each night she went home, he felt the pang in his gut telling him to stop her, to tell her how much he didn't want her to leave.

He'd confessed everything. Thinking she was going to die, saved only by the happenstance of a miracle, he'd held her and cried like a child. And seeing those chocolate eyes wake up to him, that smile there like her throat hadn't even been split...

Why couldn't he summon that courage again? In death's face, he could fight. In hers, he shrank away and let her go willingly.

Some hero he'd turned out to be.

The first peek of sunlight came through shuttered windows. He would have to leave the safety of his bed, his house, to face the cruel world that lay in the aftermath of victory. Each day, waiting for an order to come across his desk detailing the crimes he was to be charged for. And each day it didn't come, he felt relieved and guilty and hopeless. The whole idea of changing the government back to a democracy was to atone for his sins as a State Alchemist. But he was sure that even being thrown to rot in some jail, or sentenced to the firing squad, wouldn't begin to make up for all he'd done in that damned war. All he could do was wait for a judgment he'd already passed on himself. Guilty.

His temples throbbed when a heavy hand started knocking on the entryway door downstairs. He winced, groaning and shoving his unsteady feet from the bed. Just from the sheer impatience, he knew who would be there to greet him. He yanked on his robe and trudged down the dark halls of his home. His head swayed a bit, taking the world for a spin with him.

She'd probably sent Fullmetal in her own stead, knowing full well the youngster's antics would be just as comparable in punishment to her icy stare and gun.

"Mustang!"

He winced again. Why did he have to yell? Unlocking the door, his eyes welded shut at the bright rays of sunshine that peered over buildings. Ed, his younger brother next to him, finally stopped knocking and stood there, flushed and out-of-breath.

"What is this? An invasion?" Roy yawned.

"Where's Amelie?" Al asked hurriedly, his politeness laced with panic.

Roy rubbed his tired eyes, "I don't know. Didn't you follow her last night?"

"We found her. And this morning we woke up and she was gone."

Sighing, the Brigadier-General studied the boys' faces, "She does that. Shows up, makes a scene, and disappears. Nothing new."

"Nothing new?!" Ed roared, "You knew she'd seen the Gate all along and you call that nothing new?!"

Moving aside, he gestured the younger alchemists in, "I'm getting the distinct impression that you're mad at me for something."

Ed turned on him, "You knew all that time what she could do and you never once told us?"

Roy's brow furrowed and he rubbed at his temples, "Could you please not shout?"

"An alchemist who can control souls? Did you ever think we might have some use for that information?" Ed continued.

"Brother..." Al said, trying to keep the older's rage capped.

"I didn't know where she was and—what?" Roy interrupted himself mid-sentence and stared at his subordinate.

"Her alchemy: she can control souls! That's what she did to those soldiers, to you and Hughes."

At Roy's blank stare, Al's eyes widened, "You didn't know..."

"I knew she could kill people just by touching them."

"You never thought to investigate how she might be able to do that?" Ed snapped.

Roy cocked an eyebrow, "Don't start."

"Do you know where she might've gone?" Al asked, ignoring the heated glares between the Flame and Fullmetal.

Roy sighed, "No. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get ready for work," he opened the door again, waiting.

Ed hesitated and only started out once Al had lead the way. Roy closed the door behind them, leaning up against it a moment later.

Control souls?

He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. He'd always imagined it was something complex, dizzying, even. Not so simple, albeit difficult, as tearing a soul from the body. But theoretically, the idea wasn't hard to imagine. He could imagine the body's reaction when the soul was dissolved.

Suffocation. Convulsions.

What difference did it make? She wouldn't be coming back until she wanted to, and even then...

His phone rang. He pushed himself from the door and trudged into the living room, yanking it off the receiver.

"Hello?"

"_Brigadier-General Mustang._"

"I'm awake. And I will be in on—"

"_Sir, something's happened_," Hawkeye interrupted.

Roy stopped. Something about her tone of voice..."What?"

"_I think you'd best get to Central Military Hospital as soon as possible. I can send Fuery to pick—_"

"Don't bother. I'm on my way."

He hung up the phone and all traces of his nagging headache were gone, erased by that haunting ability to move no matter what the circumstance. Battlefields were dangerous, and he'd only survived by forcing fear and invalidity away. Now was no different. It was just more subtle.

He didn't bother with a shower, just yanked on his pressed uniform pants and crisp white shirt. His jacket he grabbed off the recliner in the living room before bolting out the door. He wasn't surprised when the small morning crowds parted for him as he ran full tilt towards the government hospital. He yanked on his jacket as he ran, the image of his sister in a hospital bed plaguing his mind. Riza hadn't mentioned what had been done, or to who, but his mind wouldn't let him ignore the vision of his little sister in some half-dead state.

Rounding the next corner of the main street, he saw the admittance entrance of the hospital and the recognizable blonde hair of his right hand. He didn't slow down until he stood, panting and doubled over, in front of her. She snapped to attention and waited briskly while he caught his breath.

"Shall I report, sir?" she asked.

He couldn't find enough breath to reply, so he just nodded. If she was amused at her superior's lack of breath, it didn't show.

"Military police were called to a barroom brawl earlier this morning. The victim of the brawl is inside."

His brow furrowed and he straightened a bit despite the sharp, stabbing pain in his sides, "What? That's...that's why y...you called me?"

"The victim asked for you personally, sir."

Even with his sides yelling at him for the full-throttled run, he still registered that dreadful tone in her voice, "Who...Amelie?" he asked.

"No. Not Amelie. Perhaps it would be best explained inside," she indicated.

Finally feeling his fingertips and toes, he nodded, following her as she led the way into the hospital. The smell of disinfected blood made his stomach turn over. With the shock of being called to the hospital gone, his mind chose to remember that he'd had his fair share of drinks last night.

"Are you feeling okay, sir?" she asked.

He glared at her, "Yes, thank you."

He wouldn't have caught that small smirk that tugged at her lips if he hadn't been looking for it. She led him to one of the intensive care units and stood at the ajar door. He braced himself and straightened, mentally checking his appearance before opening the door.

He stopped, eyes wide at the figure in the bed.

* * *

Hands in his pockets, Al trudging along beside him, Ed didn't really care that the first snow of winter was starting to fall. His mind, tumultuous, kept coming back to what Amelie had the ability to do. If they'd known...

They might've saved themselves a whole lot of trouble and time if she'd been around. All those years searching for their bodies only to find a woman who could open the Gate on a whim. Chances were, she would've been able to help them.

"Brother?"

"Mmm?"

"Are you thinking about Amelie?"

"Yeah. About her alchemy."

"Do you think she could do something for your arm and leg?"

Ed stopped walking. He hadn't thought about what she could do for him now. He hadn't even considered thinking about it. He'd accomplished his mission. Al had his body back. He was happy with that. And, truthfully, he had no right to get his limbs back. They'd been taken with equivalent exchange.

"I don't know, Al. Even if she could, we'd have to find her. The way Mustang tells it, she's good at staying hidden."

"Maybe we should try to find her," the younger Elric said hopefully.

"No. It wouldn't be right. And I doubt she would help us. She doesn't seem to like using her alchemy more than she has to."

"You don't think—"

A car honking at them as it passed stopped Al's breath. It screeched to a stop and the Brigadier-General poked his head out of the rear window. Furrowed brow and all, Ed walked up beside the car, peering to see Major Hawkeye in the front seat.

"Get in," came Mustang's only order.

"Why should we?" Ed snapped back.

Mustang just glared. Hawkeye looked over her shoulder at them, "Something serious has come up, boys. We need you both in on this."

Al obediently opened the front passenger door and climbed in, leaving Ed to sit in the back seat with Mustang. No sooner had he closed the door than Hawkeye pushed the pedal down to the flooring, cutting off the oncoming traffic and pulling a u-turn. All three alchemists flew to the opposite side of the car, Mustang crushing Ed while they did.

Ed pushed the larger man off him, crossing his arms over his chest once the vehicle gave him the chance, "So, what's all this about?"

"Early this morning, Lieutenant-Colonel Armstrong was attacked."

"Hah! How'd the other guy fare?"

There was silence for a moment. Ed looked between Hawkeye in the rear view mirror and Mustang next to him, "Hold on, you're not saying someone actually beat Armstrong, are you?"

"He's in the hospital," Mustang supplied, "And seriously injured. We've yet to apprehend the culprit. Which, by the Lieutenant-Colonel's admittance, was only one person."

"And you came out here to tell us this because..."

"The attacker had a message for us. More specifically, for 'sacrifices'," Mustang added with a bit of disdain.

"Someone knows?" Al asked.

"Whoever it was, they know enough to pose a threat," Hawkeye continued driving.

"And considering the tumultuous political upheavals, there's no way congress would be able to act quickly enough if the threat got any more blatant."

"What was the threat?" Ed asked.

"To use the transmutation circle beneath the country."

"It wouldn't work. Not without the solar eclipse and five sacrifices. That was the only way it could be activated..." Al trailed off at Mustang's scowling face, "What?"

"The attacker made a specific threat against you and Fullmetal. And considering the situation in which Lieutenant-Colonel Armstrong is in, I wouldn't consider those threats idle."

"So what do we do?" Al asked.

"If the attacker knows about the transmutation circle under Amestris, they've done their homework. I've already sent soldiers to ensure the safety of your Pinako in Risembool, and Miss Winry in Rush Valley."

"If this guy beat up Armstrong, what chance do regular infantrymen have against him?"

"Little to none. But getting people who could be used as blackmail against you to safety takes priority. And until we know just how this individual plans to carry out the threat of using the state-wide circle, we need to be sure we don't give him any ammunition to fire at us."

"Even then, you need five people who've seen the Gate. Hohenheim's gone. There're only...four..." Ed trailed off.

"Amelie," Al finished.

Mustang's scowl deepened and he turned his glare out the window, "If she's still in the country, she'd be used as the fifth."

Ed sighed heavily, "Al and I could go to Xing. We'd be welcomed there."

"That would stall the scheme, but it wouldn't solve it. Something needs to be done so that circle can't ever again be activated. And as easy as it might be to fill in earth, moving all the government buildings related to that circle would take months, not to mention a lot of finagling on the part of congress. Even then, bloodshed doesn't go away."

Ed rocked a bit as the car rolled to a stop. He looked out the window to see the hospital. He looked back to Mustang.

The Brigadier-General kept his eyes ahead, "I've given you a summary of the message. You may find more if you look at it yourself."

Ed and Al shared a glance, opening the car doors. Ed peered back in, leaning on the open door frame when Mustang and Hawkeye didn't move.

"You're not coming in?" he asked.

"I'll be at headquarters. Armstrong's in room 313."

Closing the door, Ed stood there while the car started up again to drive them to the main offices of Central. Shoving his hands back into his pockets, he stood there for a moment.

"Brother..." Al said, starting the walk towards the main entrance.

Ed followed him, his mind still wondering just what Mustang's little sister was doing at the moment. The white interior of the sterilized hospital matched the fresh-white of snow outside. Ed barely noticed. His eyes downcast, he didn't stop until Al did.

Falman was outside the room. His carved features were tired and he didn't look any bit happy about having to guard a man who, in any other case, needed no protection.

"You're here to see the Lieutenant-Colonel?" he asked.

Al nodded, "The General said we needed to see the message for ourselves."

"Just be ready. It isn't pleasant," he warned, opening the door for them.

Ed's distant attention snapped back to the present. Armstrong's body was covered in seeping wounds. The message had been carved into his skin.

* * *

Mustang threw his duster onto the back of his chair. With Falman and Breda with Armstrong, Fuery doing research on the early-morning incident and Havoc no longer enlisted, the office was quiet. Lonely, even. The wheelchair-bound man hadn't stopped coming by, but being just a friend of the Brigadier-General only got him on base so often.

Hawkeye sat at her desk, pulling open a file cabinet. She delicately plucked out a file and stood, walking across the room to the Brigadier-General's private office. He was looking out the window, arms stiff at his sides.

"General," she said softly.

"If I look for her now, she'll think I'm hunting her," he said blatantly.

"I was able to compile the entire record of Amelie Rochester. It may give us some idea where she's hiding," she held out the folder for him.

"We can't exactly just order a manhunt. Not without the soldiers knowing why. Or for who. If we alert the government to her presence, she'll be hauled back to jail."

"Perhaps, sir, she would be safer there for now. And Congress might be willing to reevaluate her case considering the Fuehrer's regime. If the charges are dropped, it make things a great deal easier for her. And you."

"She won't care. Guilty or not, she won't listen to me."

"You haven't given her much reason to. Sir," she added.

He looked at her, "You got her entire file in one night?" he asked.

She gave a little smile and he just turned his sights back out the window. She opened the file and started reading, "Amelie Anne Rochester: charged with seven counts of murder, treason and conspiracy. Called the Soul Alchemist for her ability to perform human transmutation without consequence. There have been reports of her in neighboring countries, often coupled with warrants for her arrest. Considered armed and dangerous. The official standing order is to capture her upon sight, with the use of any and all force necessary."

"What countries have warrants come in from?" he asked.

"Drachma, Xing, and Aerugo."

"The murder charges: are there details regarding the homicide?"

"No. They've been classified."

He smiled, "If I want to exonerate her, I need more than memory. Time to pull rank."

* * *

Even with the wounds that weren't done so precisely, the words that had been mercilessly carved into skin were hard to make out. Some were in a different language and, by all accounts, the Brigadier-General had been right to make them see it for themselves. But seeing it...

The Lieutenant-Colonel had been sedated, his usual oppressive personality smothered by the drugs and pain. His knuckles were raw from the inside of his alchemical gauntlet, his face was bruised almost beyond recognition. And the words which had been carved into his chest and back hadn't clotted. Whatever had been used to do the carving, the blade must've been coated with something to keep the wounds fresh and painfully open.

Transcribing most of what he found, Ed put the notebook aside. Al was already seeing what he could translate from the other languages. The older brother looked to Breda: he was sitting in the corner.

"Has he been up very much?"

"No. Once he told the Brigadier-General what happened, they knocked him out."

"Did he say what the guy looked like?"

Breda shook his head, "Not really. Just that it was only one."

"How can one person take out the Lieutenant-Colonel?"

"The only person I've heard do it was General Armstrong. But even she ain't that cold-hearted."

"Why would someone go after him? That's what I can't get. Why go after someone who wasn't even a sacrifice to begin with?"

"Whoever it was, they sent a message. Letting us know we're outgunned," Breda crossed his arms over his chest."

"Brother...look at this."

Ed turned to see the younger Elric with the notepad in hand. Al pointed to something on it, "Look here."

Ed took the pad from his brother, "Are you sure this is what it means?" he asked after reading it.

"My Xerxean isn't perfect, but that's what it looks like."

"We should tell Mustang."

"What is it?" Breda asked.

"You were right. Whoever this guy is, he just wanted to make a point. He wrote exactly who he's targeting. And in what order," Ed said disdainfully.

* * *

Mustang didn't even have to show his pocket watch anymore. Most of the soldiers around Central knew what he looked like. And that gave him some degree of freedom without having to pass everything through the long-line of congressional bureaucracy. Searching for the young lady he'd had his mindset on, he found her when he ran to investigate the sound of thundering books.

Reaching for the hand that was trying to unearth it's owner, he helped Shieska out of the pile. She winced and readjusted her glasses, taking a minute to realize just who had helped her out of the heap.

Seeing Roy Mustang in front of her, she smiled, "Oh, General! What brings you down my way?"

"I had a favor to ask."

"At least you're straight to the point. What did you need?"

"Amelie Rochester. I need the details of the homicide she was involved in some years back. I'd rather not go through the paperwork, honestly. I was hoping you might've read it at some point in time. And I was really hoping you could reproduce it for me."

She studied him, gathering up books into her arms and shoving them back onto the shelves, "What are you up to, General?"

He shrugged, "Just curious, is all."

"I know she's related to you."

"You're one of the few. And if you know that, it means you remember exactly which file I'm talking about. So, how about it?"

She sighed, turning the spine of one book into a readable position, "You know it's classified."

"I know. Which is why I came to you."

"I can get it to you by tomorrow night. Honestly, I'm swamped here at the moment."

"I understand. And the cooperation is greatly appreciated. As always..." he reached into his pants pocket and gathered the cenz he'd had the foresight to withdraw from his account earlier. He handed it over and she barely batted an eye. These small bonuses had gotten her through tough times before, and they were the best thing Roy had to offer her.

"Thank you, General. I can drop it by your house tomorrow night."

"That works perfectly for me."

He walked off and left her to deal with the remaining mess of books. Filing out of the library, he shielded his eyes from the bright sun that was reflecting off the new snow. Just last night, it had been cold, but not freezing. But the night had seen the temperature drop to record lows and where yesterday Central faced rain, today it faced snow. Even the small amount had gotten some children out of school for the day. For a city that had no real experience with snow, any small coating was enough to get spirits up.

Pulling his lapels of his black duster closer, he shoved his gloved hands into his pockets and walked on. He could remember when the snow was something he played in. The community children in his hometown always ganged up on him and Amelie, leaving them to defend themselves as much as each other. But he wouldn't have traded those snowball matches for anything.

She'd been so young. But she'd kept up with him. Even considering their decade difference in age, she'd matched him step for step. He'd only truly known her for four years...

Could he make up for turning his back on her all the rest?

His feet let him on, his eyes turned to watch the blank sidewalk roll by. He wondered if he would ever know, or want to know, what she'd been forced to do and endure while in the custody of scientists. Had the golden pearls of being a prodigy been clamped around her neck with iron bars? She'd hated it there. Enough to run. Enough to risk her life. Who was to say how things might have changed had he listened to her and refused the Ishbal assignment?

His feet stopped on their mark, a gray headstone ahead of him. He sighed, looking at the writing that was inscribed there. It had been so long since he'd stood here, paying respects to a man who'd given him everything he needed to climb the ranks. The snow had covered the plot, but the headstone was still visible. A name, a date here and a date there; a dash in between was all there was to commemorate the life of a friend. Just a little dash that didn't do a bit of justice to the life it represented. The snow started falling again, wisps of white along the horizon and dull sky.

His footprints weren't the only ones there. The soft, fresh snow was filling in a smaller set.

* * *

The dizzying sounds of a hyper band made her smile even as she remained hidden in the dark shadows of the pub. Aerugean pubs, notorious for their joyful hysteria, were where she always felt welcome. The snow had gotten everyone in a mood for the season. And she couldn't blame them. She just wished she could join them.

Amelie was sure no one could really see her. Aside from the darkness of her corner, she had learned very early on how to blend and disappear. So, she just watched and allowed the bartender to slide her a new mug of the fresh wine they had to offer.

The new song started up and drunks started to wind and weave their way into a dance, sloshing the drink in their cups and splattering their compatriots. It was fast, lively, and every bit meant for a dance. You didn't just listen to this music. You let it move you.

The pub door opened and she noticed that no one visibly walked in. She stood on her tiptoes only to see a blonde man in a wheelchair accompanied by a chubby, red-haired man. Her brow furrowed. In the commotion yesterday, she was sure she'd seen them at Roy's side. At the moment, neither of them had a uniform on. But they'd pulled guns without hesitation the moment her brother felt threatened.

She remained still. They weren't really looking for anyone. Rather, they seemed to be directing their energies towards the bar and what it had to offer. They had a difficult time getting the rowdy and passionate crowd to make some leeway for the wheeled man, but that only seemed to put a genuine smile on his face. Finally making it to a corner of the bar, they ordered. Two tumblers of whiskey, if her eyes served her right.

Closing said eyes, she waited. She let the din of the raucous music fade out, the stomps of dancing feet dim, the shouts and laughter of drunks wither. She could feel them. Heartbeats. The life they had. The wheeled one had spinal cord injuries. She could almost feel the pain of losing the use of his legs. Her own tingled.

These weren't the same kind of soldiers who'd obeyed the orders to capture her. Their minds were pure in intent, hearts kind and caring if not jaded.

The world rushed back to her when someone grabbed her hand. Her body stiffened, her eyes shot open and her drink dropped to the ground. In front of her stood a young man. He was smiling.

"Care to dance?" he asked.

She shook her head silently, too shocked at his intrusion to say anything. He gave a knowing little smile, "Aww, come on: I can tell you want to. I'll even buy you a new drink."

"No...thank you."

His smile turned wholesomely genuine, "Please? Don't turn a lad down."

Even if they were really looking for her, would they recognize her through the crowds and the smoke? Would they be able to do anything in a place so full of itself?

She let the young man lead her out to the middle of the barroom that substituted for a dance floor. He swung her one way, another, letting her mingle in and out of the crowd. And each time she glanced over her shoulder to see if Roy's men were watching her, she realized she didn't have to. She was dancing, and she was being free.

She froze in place. Her heart was beating too fast, her mind feeling the dark underbelly of something creep up. The young man who'd enticed her to dance waited, asking what was wrong while she looked around. She was bumped and fell to the dance floor, her footing unsure for the thing that beckoned. On all fours, she stared wide-eyed at the floorboards, beyond them.

The door to the pub slammed in, eliciting screams. She tore her gaze away from the wood below to look towards the main entrance. Something lumbering, thick and broad walked in, smiling from ear to ear. Dark hair, eyes that glowed a deep red. Her breath was shallow, her hands clutched at the flooring. The young man who'd danced with her yanked her to her feet, pulling her back to the far end of the pub.

Roy's men were standing their ground. The heavier one pulled out a gun, aiming it at the lumbering creature. It smiled at them, sharp canine teeth filling the large mouth. Amelie had never seen, or felt, anything like the creature that loomed in front of them.

It raised its hands, clasping its fists together like a cannonball. The heavyset man didn't wait for the swing. He fired off several rounds, hitting the creature in the chest. The shots didn't faze it. The swing downwards landed on the edge of the bar, shattering the wood. Stuck in his wheelchair, the thinner man barely moved out of the way in time. Not crushed, he didn't suffer much better when his chair was upended; he was thrown from it, landing face down a few feet away.

"Havoc!" the heavy man yelled, running towards him and still aiming his gun as if it might do some good.

The thing stood to its full height, easily seeing overtop even the tallest of men. It must've ducked to even get through the doorway without completely demolishing it. Havoc flipped himself onto his back, the shots fired off doing nothing to stall the creature in its advance.

Amelie ran, passing her hand along the bar top for ingredients. The semiautomatic gun was heavy with a full magazine by the time her pass was done.

"Havoc!" she caught his attention.

He looked at her and his eyes widened. But he managed to catch the loaded gun she tossed his way. Setting it and firing off more rounds while the heavier man reloaded his cartridge, he managed to hit the creature's eyes and force it back a step or two. Amelie pressed her hands to the floor, throwing up a stone wall between them and the monstrosity. For a moment, there was a reprieve. She stayed half-crouched on the floor.

"You..." Havoc trailed off.

She looked at him and in doing so missed the crashing stone wall. The fragments flew at her and the men. One massive chunk hit her shoulder and she yelped, falling back to the floor. Her head spun with the pain of a dislocated shoulder and she curled up, trying to block it out. She ignored the screams of the citizens around her. Her body felt like it were connected to lightening, her head throbbing.

A dry, arid heat lit up the pub and she managed to focus long enough to realize reinforcements had come. She forced herself to her feet, her right arm hanging limp at her side. Looking through the fireball, she saw Roy and the young brothers rushing in. They both clapped, producing weapons from the ground afterward. Setting her jaw, she reached for the broken chairs and mugs that were a casualty of the attack. She wasn't left-handed. But she still hefted the spear before throwing it. It was enough to distract the beast while the three others continued to attack it with their own weapons.

It was the pain that slowed her down. The creature swung around, its backhanded fist nailing her in the gut. She flew across the room and felt something crack. The wall or her bones, she wasn't sure. But the pain seared down her body, forcing the air from her lungs and reawakening the dislocated right shoulder she'd managed to push aside. She fell forward, slumping with her head touching the ground while she tried to breath again.

Alphonse ran in front of her, facing the monster with a pike. Edward and Roy were aside the man named Havoc and his companion. She pushed herself to her hand and knees, wincing and watching the fight continue.

Roy snapped again, engulfing the creature in flame. The older brother ran in the moment the flames cleared to drive a sword into the creature's chest. It roared and wrapped a giant hand around the boy's waist, throwing him like a doll. He hit the mirror behind the bar upside down, the glass shards breaking and falling with him.

If it were just her, she could kill it without ever worrying about those caught up in the wake. But with others, especially Roy, present, she wasn't so sure she could pull it off. The thunder of its painful howl made her wince. Yanking the sword out of its own chest, it lumbered towards where Roy was. She could see the uncertainty in his eyes. She could see fear. His hand outstretched, fingers poised, he hesitated. She planted an open palm on the ground, throwing another barrier up between her brother and the monster advancing on him. Alphonse managed to get a good jab in while the thing was distracted with the wall.

It spun and Alphonse barely managed to duck in time, losing his grip on the pike in the process. Before he had a chance to clap, Amelie produced another. He grabbed it up and lunged. The creature smiled, waiting. But coming from over the wall was Edward. He jumped up and planted a sword into the skull of the beast. Dropping to its knees, it was an easier target for Alphonse to lodge the pike securely into its throat.

They stayed back for a moment while the monster seemed beaten. Amelie stood, holding tight to her ribcage and feeling blood pool in her mouth. The creature wasn't dead. She could feel that much. Taking an unsteady step forward, she stayed hunched over and came to a stop by the younger Elric. He looked at her, braced her.

She felt the creature start to recover before it made the attack. Pushing Alphonse out of the way, she felt the beast's fist collide with her head. The crash of glass and the feel of hard pavement sent her body into overdrive. Her head felt like it had been bashed in and her vision went blurry when she tried to open her eyes. She coughed out blood, her chest racking with each strangled breath. The fighting was still going on inside. The bright gold of flame shone through the broken window she'd been forced out.

She felt the lumbering footsteps, heard the shattering and splintering of wood. The thing ran headlong through the walls of the pub, retreating. Bleeding, it was almost unfazed. No look of remnant pain on its face, no stagger in its step.

Forcing herself to her feet, she moved. She couldn't let them find her. She'd done what she could and now that they were out of danger, she had to be gone. Roy wouldn't be the one to help her. Not now. And he wasn't about to put his livelihood on the line for her, either. Bracing herself against the high brick wall, she trudged forward. Her feet felt swollen. Her back, bent out of shape. And her vision was swirling around like it had been bottled and shaken.

She would find someplace to hide. Hide and heal, that was all she could do for the moment.

* * *

Roy Mustang surveyed the damage. The lumbering creature had gotten away. And Roy couldn't say he wasn't the least bit grateful. With his own body sore from a final parting gift, Ed and Al bruised and battered, and Havoc and Breda scraped up...

They hadn't even really slowed it down for more than a moment. Not nearly enough time to apprehend whatever it was. He'd never seen something so...inhuman. But, unless he'd been mistaken, he hadn't seen a tattoo anywhere on the creature's body. The terrifying idea that this was something else altogether made his skin crawl all over.

"She's gone," Al said, looking out the window.

Roy looked up. He'd thought he'd seen..."Amelie?"

"She was hurt really bad," the younger brother said.

Breda was helping Havoc back into his wheelchair, "She stalled for us."

"Nice timing, think you could have waited a little longer to let us wriggle on the hook?" Havoc winced when he reached for the wheels of his chair.

Mustang sighed, "We moved as quick as we could."

Ed tried to stand a little taller, one hand braced against his back, "At least we know who that thing is going after."

"You don't think running it off will change that?" Breda asked.

Ed shook his head, "Somehow, I don't think that creature was what planned all this. Strong as it was, it didn't seem too bright. And we found three different languages in that message. Some ancient,"

"You think someone else is pulling the strings?" Havoc asked.

Roy nodded, "We have no choice but to wait and see."

Pulling a cigarrette from his squashed pack, Havoc held it deftly between his lips and lit it, "Great, so I'll just be hunted for a while longer until you figure this out. Doesn't make any sense anyway," he exhaled the smoke, "Why go from someone like Armstrong to me? Compared to him, I'm not a hard mark at all."

"We still don't know the logic behind it," Mustang admitted.

"General, we need to find Amelie," Al pressed.

The Brigadier-General looked at him, his shoulders dropping heavily, "This thing isn't after her. She'll be safe once she finds a place to hide. For now, that's what's best."

"Kinda cold there, General," Ed snapped, "Besides, you're next on that list after Havoc. And if this thing decides to skip the list..."

Mustang shoved his hands into his pockets, "I'll deal with that in due time."


	4. Night

Riza Hawkeye waited for the phone to ring. Her cup of tea had gone cold in her hands and Hayate laid her her feet, whimpering. He'd promised he'd call. And he'd promised he'd be alive to make the call himself. This brand of fishing had worked for them before. And now that they knew at least the pecking order this mastermind had intended, they could produce results. It would be safer, they'd all agreed, if the strongest alchemists went for the stakeout. Edward, Alphonse and Roy teaming together could overcome anything. That, she was sure of. They might be beaten and battered when it was over, but they would come out on top.

She still didn't like being left out. And being told to wait behind while her superior risked his life was as close to insulting as he could be. Ever since she'd held his gaze under Central, believing with every fiber of her being that she was going to die, he'd been different. She'd though she'd seen rage on his face when he faced Envy. She thought she'd seen him cry for the first and only time standing at the foot of Hughes' grave.

He was human, after all. But that didn't mean she understood him.

Hayate barked once. She jumped when a knock on the door followed her pet's warning. Her heart dropped, her breath was harder to come by. He'd hadn't called and now someone was at her door. She swallowed, reaching for the gun tucked at the small of her back. It reassured her.

Crossing the room, she opened the door with her guardian right at her side.

Roy Mustang stood there, bruised and leaning against the doorframe. She stared for a moment when he gave her a weak smile.

"General..."

"Hmm?" he asked.

"You said you were going to call!" she yelled at him.

He jumped back and landed on his haunches, the surprise on his face quickly melting into guilt before pain rushed in. He winced, rubbing his back. He looked up at her and she offered a hand, helping him to his feet.

"I know, I know. We got done earlier than we expected."

She moved aside and he walked in, limping as he crossed to her chairs in the dining room. He sat and she didn't miss the flinch and hiss of pain.

"You lost that quickly?" she asked.

He glared at her, "Why do you assume we lost?"

She offered a smile, "Because otherwise, you would have called."

He sighed, "I can see how it outmatched Armstrong. I don't know what it was. Homunculus or...something else altogether. It was strong. And powerful."

"It got away?"

"Ran off. We didn't even faze it."

"And Havoc?"

"He's with Fullmetal and Alphonse. They're keeping watch for now," he yanked off his gloves, tossing them onto the table before pulling off the layers he'd donned to keep warm. Even that seemed to hurt him and she moved in silently, helping him remove the thick coat so he wouldn't overextend his arms. He paused for a moment at her touch and she noticed the thick, pale scars on his hands. Every time she thought they were just a nightmare, they showed themselves again. Even the General himself wasn't used to them. He wore his gloves more often.

She finished removing his coat for him, folding the fabric over her arms before transferring it to the chair. He watched her. She removed her cup of tea from the table and proceeded to the kitchen, turning on the burner for another warm pot of water.

"Amelie was there," he said finally.

So that was why he'd come. He needed to find his level head again. Hawkeye turned to look back at him from the kitchen, "Is she okay?"

"I don't know. She ran off, too. Got herself thrown through a window protecting Alphonse."

"At least she was on our side."

"Havoc and Breda said she kept them from being any more banged up than they were. I didn't send anyone to look for her."

"If she's survived this long as a fugitive, I'm sure she can take care of herself."

"Al's face...even Fullmetal looked at me with disdain."

"You can't protect people who don't want to be found," she said softly.

The water started rolling and churning in the kettle. She turned off the burner and reached for the mugs overtop the stove. Dumping a teabag into each, she poured the hot water. Serving herself and the General at the table, she sat across from him. He reached for his cup, flexing his hand. They had never healed perfectly. Especially with the cold the way it was, she was sure his hands were aching. His first sip was tentative, the hot water proving too tepid for the moment.

He put the mug back down, his hand once again flexing to relieve the throb there. He withdrew his hand and she reached across the table, catching it gently in her own. His reflex was to withdraw, to yank it back to safety. But she held it fast, gently running her fingers across the muscles in the palm. Eyes still fixated on her, she could feel his hand relax. She could feel the torn muscles that had never fully reunited. He never complained, never mentioned the pain, but she could see it in his face each time he had to snap, write, or even do something so simple as hold his mug.

His gaze fell to her hands around his, "Thank you."

She smiled, "I'm sure there are doctors who could help with the pain."

He scoffed, "Its not the worst wound I've gotten."

"But the only one you won't get treated, sir."

"I let her go," he said.

"Do you think she was there because of Havoc and Breda?"

"I don't know. It doesn't seem likely she could've known what we were planning."

"If she did?"

"Then she helped save my men."

"And if she didn't?" she looked to his palm.

"Then I may have to start believing in providence."

"Were you able to find her records in the archives?"

He nodded, "Near enough. Shieska is delivering a copy tomorrow night. If we're lucky, there may be enough evidence in them to prove what she did wasn't cold-blooded murder. And even if it was...the justices may go easy on her in lieu of who she was up against."

"They'll want to hear her version of it."

"She won't come in unless we force her to. And until this mess with the state-wide transmutation circle is complete, I doubt we'll be able to mount much of a detachment to handle her."

"Do you think she'll still be around after this is over?"

He sighed, "I don't know."

She released his palm, grateful to see that he didn't immediately pull it back to his own self. He let it linger there, staring at it. His coal eyes reflected the pale skin. She wrapped her own warm mug into her hands, sipping from it.

"Major..." he started.

"I'll help you look for her, sir," she said before he ever continued.

He looked her in the eyes. And smiled ever so slightly.

* * *

She couldn't concentrate. Her mind was foggy, her vision clouded over. It doubled from time to time, making her stumble and lose her footing; she landed against the brick garden wall. She slumped, holding onto her dislocated arm. Every motion made it sear at her nerves, every step made her brain swim. Blood had frozen on her hair and clothes, weighing her down. The cold had seeped into her bones and she didn't notice the fresh snow falling on her as she remained slumped by the garden wall.

She heard children laughing. The last rays of sunset had covered everything in gold. Snowballs were being exchanged. The shouts and indignantly playful shrieks made her smile even swathed in pain. She wondered idly what day it was. Had she missed the solstice already? She couldn't remember dates. Traveling endlessly had robbed her of that luxury. What solstice would this be for her?

She coughed, the blood spurting across fresh snow. Her body wasn't trembling anymore. Some corner of her brain told her that was dangerous. But even the first movement, the slightest reallocation of weight that would get her walking again, caused her to hiss and flinch while the world started spinning again.

Her body racked with another cough, this one more persistent. She could feel her lungs ripple with blood, her brain sending her for another ride. Even as she continued coughing, she knew it was useless to try focusing. Her mind was too jumbled to make use of alchemy, her body too broken to do much more than exist.

And the snow still kept falling.

It was suddenly warm around her. The snow faded away to pure white, the aches of frozen limbs forgotten against the security of eternal promises. She was standing, looking at that looming arch, the doors without hinges. She could feel the ominous and warm presence of that being, everyone and no-one all at once.

The doors opened and she waited for the black tendrils to reach for her. It never happened. She'd been here several times before and each time, she hoped it would be the last. She wished for the peace of blackness. For this maddening existence to cease. But far from the blackness she yearned for, the Gate opened to show golden hues, warmth and peace. She shielded her eyes, waiting for the brightness to fade.

"Never thought I'd see you here."

She recognized that voice. Her arm dropped, letting her see the charismatic man that owned it. She smiled. Hughes, spectacles and all, stood there smiling back at her. They stared at each other for a moment.

"I'm here more often than I'd like," she admitted.

"Well, don't get any ideas. You've got a big job ahead of you," he said with foreboding caution lacing his cheerful tone.

"I don't..."

"Roy needs you."

She scoffed, "No. He doesn't."

"He will before all this is over. So don't even think of freezing to death."

"He won't let me help him."

"He's your brother. And no matter what else happens, he'll always think of you as his sister."

"You know, for a dead man, you're very intuitive."

"Habit of living. Besides, if I didn't know my best friend, I wouldn't be much of one myself."

"It'd be easier if I just let myself freeze to death, you know."

"He'd be guilty. And he's already got enough on his shoulders without you adding to the burden."

"My body isn't exactly up for a tromp through the snow."

"Too bad. I'm not giving you a choice. You have to deliver a message for me, anyways."

They stared at each other for a moment. She didn't want to go back. She wanted it over. Yes, Roy would feel guilty, and she had no doubt that the younger brother would, too. But she wouldn't be a threat to anyone anymore. She could let them live their lives. They could forget their ties to her and it would be easier, simpler, to visit her gravestone than bail her from jail. Hughes tapped his foot impatiently.

She shook her head, "I'm done fighting."

"Get moving."

"No."

"You owe me, now go!"

"Maes..."

"You're the Soul Alchemist! You're not about to die in some gutter, frozen. Now get your feet moving and stand up!"

* * *

Mustang watched the commotion dispassionately. The military police were scurrying here and there, trying to maintain order while figuring out just what had been done to the pub. They had shown up after the Brigadier-General and his men had left. At least they would all escape suspicion from anyone in Congress as having set a trap which led to so much collateral damage. Hawkeye walked back up to his side, her thick coat catching some flakes of snow.

"No one's seen a description of her."

"She was thrown out the window. She can't have gotten far."

"The snow will have hidden her footsteps. It'll be hard to track her."

Black Hayate barked at her side. Mustang smiled down at the pup, "Blood doesn't hide itself so easily."

* * *

Havoc tossed back his drink, offering the flask to Edward after. The older brother declined, and Al did the same. Havoc smiled, tucking it back into the side pouch of his wheelchair. Looking out the window, he watched the snow collect along the windowsill.

"It'll be a cold winter if we're getting snow this early in the season."

"Al and I were planning to head back to Risembool. It'll be a bit warmer there."

"Not staying in Central for the holidays?"

"Not if we can help it. Winry's making her famous apple pie. I wouldn't miss it for the world," Ed smiled.

"And to think that I was under the impression being retired meant I wouldn't be dealing with this nonsense anymore. Let alone be second on some psychopath's hit list."

"You're just that special."

"Who was that girl anyway? Why'd she show up to help us after the General fired on her?"

Ed looked to his younger brother. Al, for his part, was stuck with his nose in a book, ignoring them and their conversation. Without any help from his brother, Ed decided to go with the basics.

"Her name's Amelie Rochester."

"The Soul Alchemist?"

Ed only nodded, "Yeah."

"So, what did she help us for? She's the one who killed soldiers during Ishbal, right? Hated the military?"

"I don't know. I just know she's evidently on our side."

"Well, no wonder the General snapped at her. But what's someone like her doing on our side? Isn't she a murderer? Hell, I thought she was a rumor to keep the younger alchemists in line."

"It's no rumor. What she can do is real."

Pulling a cigarette from his pocket, Havoc snapped open his lighter, inhaling deep before letting the smoke leave his body. He looked back out the window, the snow falling heavier.

"Remind me never to meet up with her again."

* * *

Hayate had stopped. He circled for a moment, whimpering. Mustang's fists clenched deep inside his pockets. The pup hadn't done much more than lead them to where she'd last been. Digging through a small mound of snow, they'd found a frozen puddle of blood and not much else. And whatever trail there was, Hayate couldn't follow it anymore. Be it snow or something else altogether, the scent was gone. Hawkeye put her hand on his shoulder.

"If she's made it this far, she can handle herself. It's late. And you're still injured."

He didn't say anything, only clenched his fists tighter.

His second-in-command started walking away, Hayate reluctantly leaving the evidence he'd found. Roy remained still for a moment, looking at the site they'd been led to. Blood was frozen against the wall, splattered the lower levels of snow. However injured she was, some part of it was likely internal. He'd seen spatter like that before. Coughing usually did the trick.

He looked around. There was no evidence of where she'd gone. Or where she might have fallen next. No footsteps, no trail of blood. Nothing. It was like she'd just disappeared. He remembered with a mirthful smile that was what she was good at.

"Sir," Hawkeye pressed him with a single word in a simple tone.

He nodded, turned to face his subordinate, and left the scene. His own wounds numbed from the cold, he wasn't sure how he felt knowing she'd been wounded just as badly, or worse. Would the cold help clot the blood, or would it turn her into an ice cube?

The walk back to her apartment was quiet. The puffs of condensing breath disappeared as soon as they formed. Hayate was running between them, his master letting him off his leash enough to have fun in the fresh snow. The pup had never experienced it before. Each time Mustang tried to say something, each time he wished he could figure out exactly what he was supposed to say, the bitter cold took his courage away from him. He shoved his aching hands deeper in his pockets, shrugging his soldiers to keep the collar of his jacket close to his neck.

She started up the steps to her apartment, his feet stopping of his own accord.

Her soft eyes stared down at him from the top step, "Do you want some tea?"

He wanted to follow her. It was an invitation back to a sacred place, peaceful and coveted. Just her. No government, no regulations. The world was beyond her apartment, not in it. Moving on its own, his foot took a step back, surprising both himself and her.

"No, I shouldn't. I think I'll just go home."

"Please be careful, General."

He gave a soft smile, "Aren't I always?"

She only gave a soft little shake of her head, her eyes rolling when she turned to unlock the door. Such a simple motion, her soft hands looking more like silk in the cold night air. Hayate shook himself free of snow before scurrying into the warm air of the hallway.

Tossing a little look over her shoulder, she smiled at him, "Goodnight, General."

"Goodnight, Major."

He waited until she walked out of sight, down the hallway to the stairs around the corner. Standing there, waiting, he looked up. A light came on upstairs and he watched her shadows play across the curtains. Letting a deep breath out, he walked on. It always came back to ranks. Even for all they'd gone through, for all they'd done for each other, at the end of the day they were addressed by rank. Not by name, not by nickname, by rank. It irked him as much as it comforted him.

She was his constant in a fluxing world.

* * *

Ed hated the fact that Al still acted like he was in an armor suit. Sometimes, his younger brother forgot his new body, or, more correctly, his old body, wasn't immortal. It couldn't take a hit without consequence. It couldn't brave the elements. And sitting in the freezing cold on the front stoop wasn't any bit something he was supposed to be doing. Letting the front door slam closed, he simply stood, arms crossed, waiting for the younger Elric to snap out of whatever it was that had made him so quiet.

After a moment that was starting to wear on Ed's lingering warmth from inside, he sighed, "Al, what are you doing?"

"We should look for her."

He groaned, "Will you let it rest? She can take care of herself."

"The General didn't even care! Someone has to."

"And you decided sitting out here in the snow would delegate that task to you? Or that it would help? She was there. She helped. But she obviously doesn't want anything more than that."

"It hit her in the head. What if she has a concussion? You know she won't be able to do alchemy with a brain injury. She'll be helpless."

"She's related to Mustang. And _he's_ like a friggin cockroach. They don't die."

Giving in to his brother's argument, Al sighed, "Any idea what that thing was, anyways? It didn't look like a homunculus."

Ed sat next to his brother on the stoop. The snow had piled up and sitting in it gave him a semi-unpleasant cold shock, "I don't know. I didn't see a tattoo."

"It was huge. Bigger than Sloth."

"At least not as big as Envy. That would've been a problem."

"So, what was it?" Al asked again.

"Maybe it was a chimera. Whatever it was, it seemed to be following orders. Those eyes were vacant. Doubt it's the mastermind behind this threat. We'll head back to HQ tomorrow, see if there're any more clues on it."

"As long as we get this wrapped up before the solstice. I want to be in Risembool for it."

"Yeah."

They sat silently, watching the snow fall flake by flake. Ed finally stood, his automail creaking a bit for the cold, "Come on, inside."

Al nodded wordlessly, following his brother into the townhouse.

* * *

Roy winced to pull off his heavy jacket. Throwing it over the backrest of his recliner, he snapped, starting a fire in the fireplace. The tinder was already there, just waiting for the shock. Rubbing his sore shoulder, he rolled it in its socket. That monster had only gotten one hit in, but it was enough to make his whole body feel swollen. The firelight danced along the walls of his living room, casting odd shadows here and again.

Standing closer to the fire, he was grateful for the warmth that cascaded over his aching bones. He wasn't as young he wished he was. He'd been stabbed, beaten and battered too many times. His body was starting to protest. He was only...too old. No spring chicken, that was for sure.

Someone knocked on the door. Heavy, thudding, slow. Tightening his gloves on his hands, he moved to the foyer, hesitating. It was close to midnight. No one should've been awake, let alone knocking on his door. He yanked it open, prepared for a fight.

Amelie stood there, leaning against the doorframe. Her lips were tinged blue, icicles clinging to the bloodied hair and clothes. Glassy eyes were dim, almost lifeless, behind a veil of pain.

"Amelie..." he started.

"I have a message for you," she whispered.

He about asked just how she planned to continue talking with her injuries when she collapsed forward from the doorframe. He caught her, falling to his own rear in the hallway. She was frozen, her eyes closed. He frantically searched for a pulse, finding the weakest of tempos in her neck.

"Amelie? Amelie!"

He kicked the door closed with his foot, gathering her up bridal-style in his arms. He rushed up the stairs, laying her in his bed. Sitting aside her, he tried to gently shake her awake. Her body was limp, her consciousness gone. She felt colder than the snow outside against his warm hands. Her chest shuddered as it rose, only to have her wheeze when she exhaled.

He picked up the phone that lay at his bedside table. He dialed the number from memory, hoping the owner picked up. He couldn't bring her in to a hospital. He couldn't chance the military knowing she was alive, let alone in his company. The click of an open line made him stand a little straighter.

"It's me. I have a favor to ask.


	5. Stay Gone

All he could do was sit and wait. Hope the prognosis was more favorable than the one he'd give. Sallow, blue skin, choked breaths. Each time she winced, squirmed, even cried, he wondered just what she was seeing behind closed eyelids. The blood had been thawed and cleaned, her frozen clothes stripped so they wouldn't continue to rob her of warmth.

Knox sighed, straightening his old back after staying hunched over Amelie for the past hour. Roy sat a bit straighter in the chair, waiting.

"She'll live."

"Anything more than that?" the General asked.

"Concussion. Broken ribs. Punctured lung, but it's not severe. Her shoulder was dislocated."

Roy remembered that; the crunch and squelch of her shoulder being popped back into the socket. The sound of bone grating unnaturally against bone. It was like chalk dragged the wrong way on the chalkboard.

"All in all, she'll live. She'll be sore, and need some serious bed rest," Knox finished.

"Thank you," Roy stood, eyes trained on the white-haired alchemist in the bed.

"She a soldier of yours?"

He almost laughed, "No. Not a soldier. Just a civilian caught in the crossfire."

Knox eyed him, "I don't believe that for a second."

"It's better if you don't know."

The coroner eyed him. Roy was left to shrug, "Plausible deniability."

"Uh-huh. She'll need supervision for another few days to make sure she doesn't go comatose. You able to do that or should I sleep on the couch?"

Roy stayed quiet. He could call off tomorrow; Hawkeye would understand without ever asking or being told. The days after that, he'd be lucky to escape notice. And he doubted Amelie wanted to be here. Whatever message she had for him, she would likely leave the moment she'd delivered it.

"I can manage tomorrow. After that...could you take her?"

Knox nodded, "She should be stable enough to be moved."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. I'm just glad you're saving them instead of frying them this time around."

The General gave a wilting smile, "Life changes. I remember you used to work only on corpses."

"I would be, if you didn't insist on shoving every basketcase and battered soul onto my doorstep."

"Well, then I still owe you."

"Damn right. If you bring her over tomorrow, bring a handle of whiskey along with her."

Gathering his supplies back into his medical bag, Knox started for the bedroom door. When Roy moved to escort him, the coroner held up his hand and shook his head.

"Watch her. I can show myself out. Just bring that whiskey."

"It's a deal."

The bedroom door opened and clicked closed, loud for the silence in the room. Sitting back into the heavy reading chair, Mustang steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them, elbows braced on his knees. His little sister, in his bed and hurt, because of him.

He contemplated calling Hawkeye now to save the hassle in the morning. Seeing the time on the clock, he had no doubt she was already asleep. It could wait until morning.

Amelie stirred, her brow furrowed. Whatever she was seeing in her sleep, it didn't seem to let her out of its clutches. She'd whimpered, whispered, and he couldn't tell if she was delirious or dream ridden. He gently wrapped his hand around hers. Her skin was still frozen, but there was a pulsing warmth, an energy beneath the icy exterior. It felt like alchemy. Like that moment of euphoria each time he snapped; the release of energy so similar to the high of drugs. Energy was coursing under the iced surface of her lake. He could feel it deeper down. He could feel it snake into him. It warmed him. For all the concerns he had, he felt as if it didn't matter. Just her touch was enough to make him ignore the threat of the world.

Had she always felt like that? Like energy? Or was that something that had been discovered after she fled? He couldn't say he knew. He'd never met anyone, any alchemist, whose touch sent golden warmth into his core.

"Roy..." she whimpered.

He leaned closer, "I'm here."

Biting her lower lip, idle tears streamed from her shut eyes, "I...I'm s-sorry."

He pushed hair from her forehead, "For what?"

"I lost him..."

His brown furrowed, her grip on his hand loosening, "Who'd you lose?"

"He t-told me..."

"Who, Amelie?"

The pain of her grip shocked him. She'd tightened it, like a vice. He clenched his jaw, trying not to pull his grip from hers, "Amelie," he forced through locked teeth.

Her eyes shot open and her grip went slack. He breathed a small sigh of relief, watching her. Her eyes darted around, even though it looked like she were drunk. She was blinking rapidly, refocusing her sights. Her head lolled a bit, as if she couldn't keep it in the thin pillow.

"Amelie?" he rested a hand on the crown of her head, trying to get her eyes to meet his.

She found him, smiling dreamily, "Maes says hi."

He stared at her while those heavy lids drifted down again, her grip gone to the depths she'd fallen. His own hand was stiff, unresponsive. The dull thud of his heart in his throat drowned out the nagging realization that he needed to be vigilant, check her pulse.

He didn't realize he'd shed a tear until it hit his bare hand.

* * *

She was always the first one in most mornings. With Black Hayate at her side, she walked halls that had been demolished and rebuilt. There were no signs of the struggle. No walls that had been left scarred. Everything had been rebuilt, mostly by the alchemists who'd joined the legendary Hero of Ishbal and the Fullmetal Alchemist in the last fight against the remaining government officials.

It had been hell. Idly rubbing her throat, she walked into the main office. It was barren, with desks that her and her subordinates claimed as their own. Falman, his daily regime more structured than even hers, stood at attention when Hayate announced his owner's appearance with a bark. She gave a small little smile and the older man relaxed.

"Good morning," she put down her small stack of papers.

"Good morning, sir," he smiled back, "I checked on Lieutenant-Colonel Armstrong this morning. No change. Fullmetal and Alphonse are there already."

"Well, at least they're accounted for," she mused.

"Did the General figure out who it was that attacked Armstrong?"

She nodded, sitting, "It seemed we underestimated it. Were there any eyewitness reports from last night?"

He walked across the room to her, handing over a short stack of documents, "There were three. Two saying the creature was running away, and a third stating that it simply vanished into nothing."

She looked over the reports, "Vanished?"

"Yes, sir. The exact phrase was that—"

"...It vanished in a puff of smoke," she finished.

The phone rang. Falman reached for it while she perused the remaining reports. From the way he stood straighter and clapped his free arm down to his side, she knew who was on the other end of the line. She held out her hand expectantly and after he spoke his small piece, he handed it over to her.

"I do hope you're not calling out, sir," she said tiredly.

"_I need to._"

She sat up a bit, wondering if she should send a doctor over. That voice...she'd heard it tinted that way before. Tired, thick with lingering sleep. She could even hear the wheezing breaths in the background. But no...he would've already called for Dr. Knox. War buddies truly were a blessing in situations like this.

"Well I hope you feel better, sir," she said evenly.

"_Thank you. And don't tell Fullmetal. Or Alphonse_."

"Of course, sir."

The click on the other end of the line held her captive for a moment. She finally put the headset back down onto the receiver. Falman waited patiently. Mustering up all the annoyance she could in her posture and look, she exhaled disappointedly and started working on the reports that needed her signature.

"The General will not be joining us today."

Falman nodded, returning to his seat to work on his own share of the papers.

* * *

She was weak. Weak and injured. Whether or not she was there for his sake or her own, he doubted things would have ended so easily for Havoc and Breda were she absent. That single minute he and the others were delayed would have turned almost-certainly disastrous otherwise.

He head bobbed a bit and he snapped himself back awake. Blinking rapidly, shaking his head, it was all he could do to keep his consciousness. Pillowing his head on his folded arms, he remained at the side of his occupied bed. The heavy weights attached to his eyelids got heavier, more stubborn, and he slipped deeper. He hadn't allowed himself to sleep at all, fearful for her survival. Even with Knox's assurance that she would pull through fine, he needed to see the sunrise before he could feel remotely at ease.

She stirred. His head shot up and he rubbed his tired eyes. Her focus was off, her breath still shallow. But she found him and he couldn't offer anything more than a weary smile and rasp words.

"Hey...how're you feeling?"

She winced, "...think I'm broken..."

"Don't worry, you're safe."

Her eyes shot open wider, "That monster!" she tried to sit up.

Roy held her down by her shoulders, both hands keeping her from getting any further, "You're in no condition to be up."

"No...I have...it'll keep fighting..."

He finally got her back to the bed, her eyes glazing over with unshed tears. He pulled the blanket back up to her chin, "What about the monster?"

"It's cold...Cold like snow..."

His eyes narrowed, "What do you mean?"

"It told me...I asked...You can't kill it. If you do, it'll come back again."

"Calm down. No one's fighting anything. You need to rest. Leave the monster to me."

Her eyes wilted again and she stopped pushing weakly against his gentle grip. Without more stamina to continue, she drifted back to sleep. He kept his hands on her shoulders until he felt them go slack, her head sinking into the thin pillow.

The rush of seeing her eyes open no longer fueling his own battle against sleep, he gently put his head down and let his eyes close without contest.

* * *

The automail had stayed relatively unscathed over the past months. He smiled to think this may have been the longest he'd gone without seeing his mechanic. And, at least for now, she wouldn't have cause to nag him when she stepped off that train. He waited alone. Wondering just how much she would be happy to see him. There was nothing worse than her wrench against his temple. He shuddered to think that she'd find some excuse or another to connect metal to flesh.

Her shiny blonde hair caught his attention from across the platform. He gave a wave, hoping his metallic arm would catch her attention. She waved back, her bright blue eyes never showing exasperation or annoyance. She turned away quickly and he supposed it was to help Pinako from the train. The military escorts had their eyes peeled, standing to quick and rapt attention when their superior walked up nonchalantly. Even without his uniform, they knew he outranked them.

She hugged him. He couldn't help but relish the quick contact, the warmth of her even with the frigid winter air nipping at their exposed ears more soothing than his thick coat.

"Hey, Ed! Where's Al?" she quickly asked, noticing the lack of his younger brother.

He shrugged, "Classes."

"How's he doing?"

"Leaving them all in the dust."

She smiled and he looked down when Pinako tapped her pipe against his automail knee, "Good to see you're growing some, pipsqueak."

He grinned, "You'll have to adjust it again soon! Yet somehow you keep getting shorter!"

"Maybe I wouldn't if you stopped worrying me half-to-death all the time!"

The pipe coming out of her exaggerated frown made him smile and he looked to the uniforms that still stood at attention, "At ease. Mind getting their luggage?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

He rolled their eyes as they turned to follow his simple question. He would never get used to having to deal with that. He supposed, like all things, it would grow on him. Winry quickly latched onto his elbow.

"So, what kind of trouble did you get into this time?"

He glared at her, "What makes you think _I_ got into trouble?"

"Well, you do tend to attract it."

"This doesn't have '**Ed's Fault'** written all over it!"

"You sure?"

"Yes! This is something completely unrelated and in-no-way associated with me."

She gave a little squeeze, "Geez, I was just teasing."

Pinako walked past them and Ed followed. The two grunts who'd been assigned to be the Rockbell's bodyguards fumbled a bit with the heavy luggage. Ed had no doubt Winry had carted every tool and spare part to Central. She would beg him to try on new designs before she offered them to her clients. He loathed the idea of sitting while she ransacked his raw nerves time and again. Although, to be honest, he'd have to go through it anyways at least once. He'd shot up since Al had gotten his body back. Whatever sustenance he'd provided for that body across the Gate, the burden was gone and he'd shot up a good six or seven inches in the past year. The thought of Mustang complaining that he couldn't be referred to as 'shorty' or 'pipsqueak' or 'runt' made him grin.

"Is Mister Armstrong okay?" Winry asked quietly.

"I've never seen him hurt like that before. But the doctors say he'll be fine."

"Good."

"I've never seen him so quiet."

"Did you guys find anything out?"

"Only that this monster...it isn't a homunculus. And its big. Strong. Doesn't die easily and—"

Winry had stopped walking, "You're not saying you actually tried to fight this thing, are you?" she cut him off.

He blanched for a moment, "Well, I wasn't alone! Al was there!"

With a furrowed brow, she glared at him, "You two...how could you do something so dangerous!"

"Well, it is kinda my job," he answered meekly.

She yanked her hand from the crook of his elbow, "Ugh! You...you're...UGH!" she stormed off and left him and Pinako on the stairs of the station. Ignoring the escort car that had been sent for them, the young woman stomped off into the snow-covered sidewalks.

Pinako smiled, "Well, that was a record."

Ed eyed her, "What're you saying?"

She chuckled idly and puffed on her pipe, getting into the car and letting the military escorts close the door for her. Ed hesitated. A young officer saluted before Ed waved him off.

"Sir?"

"Take her to the hotel. I'll be...I'll be back later."

"Yes, sir!"

Sighing and leaving the stairs, he followed the angry set of footprints that his blonde mechanic had left like breadcrumbs for him.

* * *

_Amelie kept her hooded jacket tight around her face. The rain would at least give her an excuse as she walked, sopping wet, through the hospital. Idly looking for the door she'd been instructed to find, she opened it to see her brother and Maes, both asleep. _

_It had been close. She wasn't sure just what she'd done, but she knew how to get them better. At least she could do that. Get them healthier quicker. Tossing back the hood of her jacket, she closed the door and locked it. Maes' breathing was irregular. She could hear him rasp and wheeze. Roy was no better off. She'd done this to them and her only concern was now undoing it. _

_Moving to Roy's bedside first, she gently sat next to him. The bed dipped a bit, but he remained asleep. The plastic tubing that was connected to the back of his palm was no doubt responsible for his deep slumber. Leaning over him, she touched each of his temples with a hand. Her alchemy rushed through him, reconnecting broken tissues and mending the damage she'd inadvertently inflicted earlier. His breath hitched and she yanked her hands from his skin, afraid he would wake up completely. But he remained asleep and she gave a little smile. _

_Moving to Maes' bed, she repeated the gesture, her alchemy running its course and healing what she'd injured. Finished, she stood and moved to replace her hood._

_"You..."_

_She froze, looking at Maes. He fumbled for something, his hand recklessly hitting the top of the nightstand that stood between his bed and Roy's. Finding his glasses, he put them on and stared at her. She couldn't move. Frozen by that knowing gaze. _

_It seemed Maes couldn't do much, either. He looked across the room to Roy and them back at her, "Amelie?"_

_"It was an accident. I didn't mean to...I'm sorry."_

_He reached for her and she pulled away, "Don't touch me."_

_"The military police..."_

_"I escaped," she answered softly. _

_"You have to turn yourself in...they'll reevaluate your case..." he tried sitting up but stopped, his body too weak after the ordeal._

_"I can't stay."_

_She watched his body rack with a silent cough, his lungs weak and demanding fresher air than what the hospital could give. Half-hunched, he was leaning precariously over the edge of the bed. She braced him while his cough got harsher, louder. _

_A red light started blinking. She snapped to look at it at the same time Maes did. Finding the red bulb over Roy's bed flashing intermittently, they both cast their gazes down to see Roy with his hand around the medical call switch by his bed. His obsidian eyes were slicing through her sopping clothes, cutting her. _

_Maes shook his head, "Roy..."_

_But the attempt at clearing her of the present predicament only made him cough more. Amelie pushed him to lie back down on the bed, jumping when a heavy thud landed against the door. She looked back to Roy._

_How hateful those eyes could be. How they judged her. She was left staring while the thudding against the door got louder, shouts and distinct military-issued commands joining the cacophony. _

_"Get. Out."_

_"I just—"_

_"Get out! Or let them drag you away! Either way, you'll be gone. Stay that way."_

_She felt her fists clench at her side, her throat tighten and her eyes sting. Her brother..._

_The door started to give. Splintering wood, oppressed hinges creaking at the intrusion. She tore her gaze from his and ran for the window. It was only the second story. She could make it. Throwing it open, it let rain into the room, coating the tile floor at the base of the wall. Jumping at the same time the door was busted in, she felt the bullets whir harmlessly over her head while she fell away from the sill. She landed and rolled, the mud splashing up to meet her, coating her in oozing cold. _

_She got her feet under her and ran. Never looked back over her shoulder. Never stopped when she heard the orders shouted from above. Her tears mixed with the rain. The gray and dreary sky was shattered each time her foot landed in a new reflection. _

* * *

Roy's head snapped upwards, his eyes blinking in the strong afternoon light that was overspilling the curtains. He rubbed his face idly, wiping away the tiredness that still lingered. His body had stiffened considerably since the fight last night; his back cracked and his shoulder ached when he tried to straighten.

Amelie was gone.

He jolted to his feet, looking around his room for any sign of her. The bedsheets were rumpled, the medical bandages still in the wastebaket nearby. She'd been there. It hadn't been a dream. His baby sister had come to him for help and now, she was gone.

"Amelie?" he called out—to no answer.

Finding his way through the halls, he opened each door, hoping she would be behind one of them. His hand gloving the doorknob to his study, the brass knob felt cold. He threw the door open, the stark cold air coming from an open window. Some of his books had been taken from the shelves and left open on the floor. Blood, tiny droplets of it, littered the desk. The pages flipped angrily against the cold wind that ripped at them. The snow had stopped falling, but the small puddle of water near the windowsill told him the window had been opened earlier. Walking farther into the study, he leaned over with a muffled curse at the nagging pains and picked up the books Amelie'd helped herself to. Turning the spines so he could read them, he found mostly books on biological transmutations. Nothing too complex. Nothing he couldn't pull off if he racked his brain.

Holding the books in his hand, he looked out the open window, "You didn't have to stay gone, this time."

There was a knock on his door. Even with his heart beating double-time for the briefest of moments, he knew it wasn't her. She wouldn't come back. And if she did, she'd not do it during the day. Considerate, as always.

Trudging downstairs, he quickened his pace when his guest knocked again, "I'm coming, I'm coming," he groaned to himself.

He yanked open the door to see Shieska. Bundled in a thick coat that made her look like a green cotton puff, she held out her hands and offered a thick stack of papers along with a proud smile.

He smiled, "Ahh, yes. Thank you."

"Not a problem, General. Glad I could help."

"Me too. Do you want to come in? Hot tea?"

She shook her head, "No thanks. I've got to get to my mother's before it gets late. She worries."

He nodded, "Of course. Be safe."

"You too. Have a good evening."

He watched her run off, grateful she was still a reliable source after all the tumultuous state upheavals. Closing the door against the cold air, he locked it, looking up at the still-frigid draft that was coming from his study. Managing his way up the stairs, he found the empty room again and closed the window. Looking around at the still-scattered books, he sank down into the heavy armchair at the desk and flipped past the first few pages of filler that Shieska was always observant enough to include. Only once he saw his name at the top of a page did he start reading.


	6. Plans

His automail was getting heavier. He'd never thought of having it changed back to frigid-grade before winter. Usually winters in Central, and in Risembool, weren't bad enough to cause a problem. He wondered idly as he trudged along if she could do it this trip or if she'd have to return to Rush Valley for the supplies.

Her blonde hair stood out against the whites and blue of a snow-covered park bench. The pond in front of her had just started freezing over, ice creeping in from the edges. He sighed, his breath puffing before disappearing into the air.

"You don't have to storm off all the time, you know," he plopped down next to her.

"How can you be so reckless!" she growled, not looking at him.

"It wasn't reckless. It was as safe as it could be."

She spun to glare at him, poking him hard in the ribs. He hissed in pain and coiled around her prodding fingers. A few of them weren't quite right. Being thrown like a doll and shattering a mirror wasn't anything easy to play down. His pain only made her eyes darker, angrier.

"Safe, huh? Then why are you hurt?"

"Winry, I had—"

"And don't you say you 'had to'! You shouldn't be with the military anymore and you know it!"

His brows knit together, "What do you mean?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, "You're not getting them back, Edward. You said that yourself. Al...he got his body back. But your arm...your leg...they aren't coming back."

He sighed, "I know."

"So why are you staying with the military?"

"Because Al's here. Because they pay good. And besides, if anything ever did happen to me, you and Granny would be taken care of."

"Even if those monsters are gone...it's still dangerous."

A cold wind made him shiver and the motion reminded him that his automail wasn't feeling quite right. He sighed, "Hey, I think it's freezing up a bit," he pointed to it.

She looked at his right arm and then around them at the snow, "Yeah, I can imagine. Want me to put on the cold-grade?"

"Did you bring some?"

"I heard it was snowing in Central. I figured I'd best come prepared."

He smiled, shaking his head incredulously, "You're just plain scary."

She gave a little smile and stood. He followed. Walking through the park, finding the main road again, Ed was grateful she'd come. Even if he didn't tell her, he doubted he'd been able to get home in time for the holiday with this new player stepping up to the plate.

They walked on in silence, the puffs of condensing air disappearing almost in sync with each other.

"So, what happened?" she asked.

* * *

Al scribbled. Angrily dragged and scratched his pen across the work he'd done so far. Classes over for the day, for the rest of the season, too, he'd come back to Armstrong's hospital room hoping to get some more information from the message that had been inscribed in his friend's skin. The small bits he could understand were in his own language and Xerean. Some was in Xingese. If Ling were here...

Tossing aside the ball of crumpled paper, he started anew, trying to remember just which pictographs went with which of his letters.

The door opened behind him and he stopped his scrawling to peer over his shoulder. He smiled to see both his brother and Winry walk in. Putting aside his pad, he stood, receiving her hug.

"Hey, Al."

"Winry. Happy Solstice."

She gave a tired little smile, "You sound like you won't be in Risembool for it."

He shrugged, "Well, things here—"

Popping a wrench out of nowhere, she struck him once upside the temple. Vision whirling, arms pinwheeling, he fell to his haunches. Only once he'd landed did he rub the welt on his temple. He glared up at her.

"What was that for?"

"For being reckless and putting yourself in danger when you're not even a part of the military!"

"Brother couldn't go alone! It was safer with all of us there!" he argued.

She fumed, crossing her arms over her front with the wrench still tight in his grasp. Ed rolled his eyes, turning his attention instead to Armstrong.

"Has he been up?"

Al shook his head, getting wobbly feet under him, "Just for a few minutes. He didn't seem to really know where he was. Falman's out getting dinner. I volunteered to stay with him."

Ed nodded, "Good."

Winry tucked the wrench back into the pocket of her coat before sitting at the stool aside Armstrong's bed. She took his hand in his, looking at the oozing wounds there.

"Who would do this?"

"We're trying to find out. Whatever it was we fought, it might've done the damage, but someone else is giving the orders."

"You don't think they'll really try to use you two as sacrifices again, do you?"

Ed and Al shared a glance. Al's glare silently asked why the older Elric had obviously filled her in on everything. Ed just shrugged helplessly before looking back to his childhood friend.

"We hope not. It wasn't too fun the last time around," he shifted his gaze to his younger brother, "You eat dinner yet?"

"No. The mess hall should still be open."

"Winry? Want to get some dinner?"

She nodded, standing from Armstrong's bedside, "Is it okay to leave him?"

"Yeah. He's stable."

Walking off, she fell in step behind the two brothers as they left the room.

* * *

Amelie huffed, grateful the three of them finally left. She didn't know how long she could stay cramped inside the vent, inhaling dust and who-knew-what else. The door latching closed, she pressed her hands against the vent cover and alchemized it open. Lowering her legs down first, she found the stool the blonde girl had left vacant. Letting go and dropping to the stool and the floor, she shook her head. Things were still fuzzy. Her wounds wouldn't heal all the way until her concussion faded. For now, her medical alchemy wasn't top notch as it could be. Likely she wouldn't be able to do very much more for Armstrong than she'd done for herself.

But the markings in his skin were interesting. She'd overheard her brother talking about a list. That there was an order to the attacks. It hadn't taken much snooping to realize which of his men was in the hospital and even less to create her own entrance.

Picking up the discarded notepad and pen, she eyed the seeping wounds on the bulky man. With one hand on the paper and writing utensil, her other hand laid softly over the man's—Armstrong's?—bare chest, she alchemically transcribed the message which had been carved into his skin. In its entirety, it was several pages long and in half a dozen languages. Her head made it hard to concentrate. Her paranoia about being found by another of Mustang's comrades made her twitchy. But she transcribed the message. At least with that done, no information would be lost if she was able to heal any bit of him.

She didn't know him. Didn't know if he would kill her on command. But she had to hope that some small gesture would assure Roy that she wasn't here to cause trouble.

The pen had been completely absorbed into the pad of paper. Overlooking the work she'd done, she recognized some of what was written. Her Aerugean wasn't really reliable and her Xerxean was rusty, too. But, like she'd overheard, there was a rhyme to the madness. The targets had been listed in the order which they would be caught. Although it seemed strange that there was no mention of what would be done to them once apprehended—unless Armstrong's current condition was all the planner needed to say.

Heavy, military boots passed by and she froze. When they had moved from earshot, she continued reading. Roy's name was next on the list after the one called Havoc, who she remembered was in the wheelchair. After her brother was a name she didn't recognize, and then one she did.

She memorized the list, the steps to the end, and put the pad aside. Sitting at the man's bedside, she gently placed her hands over his temples. With her concussion, it was slow-going. Identifying the agent which had forbidden his blood from clotting, transmuting it into an acceptable protein that the body could break down...it took her longer than she wished it did. Even after that, she sealed the wounds. She wouldn't want scars on her own body if it could be helped. She doubted this man would want them, either.

Her eyes closed. Her vision had been going gray around the edges, warning her to stop while she could still stand. But she pushed on, her body slumping a bit.

Voices. Too close to be passing by. She jumped back, taking her hands from the man's temples about the time his eyes opened. They stared at each other for a moment before she jumped onto the stool and hauled herself up into the vent shaft. Sealing the cover closed behind her, she army crawled a decent distance. But even that drained her. Slowing, she stopped all together at an incline. She rested her head against her forearm. Her body was sweating, cold. Her heart was resounding obnoxiously in her ears.

Resting there for a moment, she drifted off, curled like a cat on a couch

* * *

His wheels wouldn't turn quite right outside. It was the snow, he was sure of that. The rubber couldn't grip ice and frozen white. Much to his dismay, it meant he was almost a prisoner inside. Unless he wanted someone to push him, which he didn't.

"Three of a kind," Breda splayed his cards out triumphantly.

Havoc wasn't really paying attention while Kain lost a few more cenz to the ever-growing pile. He was too busy looking out the window. He'd seen his fair share of tense moments, the line of work he was—had been—in. But never once had he seen Mustang react so violently some someone. Usually, the man was cold, calculated. Even if he knew the party was guilty, he never just...attacked.

"What d'you guys make of the General just attacking like that?" he asked idly, still looking out the window.

The two other men looked at him before Kain readjusted his glasses, "She's obviously dangerous. He couldn't even touch her with his flame."

"Yeah, but he seemed to know her. You don't get that kind of gut reaction unless you know someone. Really know them," he added.

Breda scooped up his earnings, "Maybe he do, maybe he don't. Either way, don't think she'll be coming back."

Havoc finally looked to his comrades, "Something just isn't sitting right. If she really was Amelie Rochester, wouldn't he want to capture her? She'd be good ammunition to get further up the ranks."

"You don't keep someone that dangerous around. You kill 'em. She murdered soldiers? Fine. She's the enemy."

"But the way Chief made it sound, she was on our side. I mean, she was there at the pub," Havoc vouched for her.

"For all we know, she might've just been there to get us first. Anyway, its a big coincidence if you ask me: her showing up and Armstrong getting attacked at the same time," the heavy-set man folded his arms over his chest.

"Come on, she didn't look like she could win against Armstrong. He was pummeled. Good as she was against the General, she doesn't look like she could throw a punch worth a cenz," Kain sighed.

"No, but that big lumbering monster might've had a master without strings attached."

"No way, it threw her out a window," Havoc leaned forward.

"Yeah, she wouldn't have been hurt if she were in control of that thing."

"I still say she's dangerous. And if she shows up again, she'll regret it."

Pulling a new cigarette from his shirt pocket, Havoc snubbed the old one in the middle of the makeshift card table.

* * *

Al was sure he was hallucinating. His scribbles and scratches were gone and replaced with a perfect copy of what had been written all over Armstrong's skin. It would be easier to decipher the message now that it wasn't scribed on flesh. The bulky man was still weak, but the wounds were barely there. Still some bruises, still a broken arm, but the blood and pus were gone.

As was the subdued manner.

"An elegant angel, one soft with feminine beauty!" Armstrong exclaimed, describing what he'd seen when he'd woken up.

"What did she look like?" Ed asked in exasperation.

"Piercing eyes, lovely! And white hair. She was—"

Al spun around to look at the older alchemist, "White hair?"

"Indeed."

He and Ed shared a glance and the older brother nodded, "Sounds like Amelie."

"The girl from the office?" Falman asked.

"Who?" Winry looked between them.

"Her name's Amelie...she's an alchemist..." Al omitted what he knew Mustang wouldn't want spoken of.

"If she was here, we should call Mustang," Ed continued.

"He won't be at the office. He stayed home due to illness," Falman volunteered.

"You didn't happen to see which way she went, did ya?" the older Elric looked to Armstrong.

"It seemed that she went up into the vents."

"I'm gonna look around the outside. See if she made an exit anywhere. You wanna call Mustang?" Ed delegated the task to his younger brother.

Al nodded, "Right."

Winry quickly fell in step next to Ed as he walked out, "I'm heading with you."

"Will you just stay inside? My automail won't freeze this very second!"

"No! You've got some more 'filling-in' to do. Besides, I never get to see the snow down in Rush Valley."

With his eyes rolling in his head, Ed walked on with Winry at his side. Al let them go while he smiled and shook his head for their constant bickering. Picking up the phone, he dialed the number for Mustang's flat. Sadly, his brother was in trouble often enough to warrant having that particular number memorized. It rang a few times before the groggy voice of the General came through.

"_Hello?_"

"General, it's Al."

"_Is everything all right or did your brother get lynched by Miss Rockbell_?"

Al gave a little chuckle, "Not yet. Actually, Lieutenant-Colonel Armstrong woke up. If he saw...well, I think he saw Amelie."

There was a long pause, "_Is he able to speak_?"

"Yes, sir. He's almost good as new."

"_Let me speak with him_."

Al handed the phone over to the bigger man, listening half-heartedly while Armstrong gave his description of what he'd seen. Al, while he waited, looked back over the notes that had been transcribed.

"Yes, sir! An angel of unsurpassed beauty. Deep eyes like night and before I could say anything, she made her way into the vents...No, sir....Understood, sir....Yes, he's right here."

Armstrong held the phone out for Al. The younger Elric took it, cradling it between ear and shoulder while he continued to read the notes.

"_Al, Armstrong's going to sketch who he saw. If it was Amelie, you and your brother can't keep looking for her. She's obviously alive and well, and any attempt to confront her may appear that we're trying to bring her in. Even...she's dangerous. Be aware of that_."

"Got it."

"_Just because she didn't attack before...don't assume she's on our side. We still don't know what we're dealing with here._"

"We'll be careful. We'll see you tomorrow at headquarters."

"_Tomorrow, then_."

The empty dial tone drilled loud in Al's ear and he put the phone back on its receiver. Looking over the passage he'd left off at, he flipped through the few pages that were filled with writing. He ripped them off. Fumbling for a pencil and finding one in the drawer of the nightstand, he offered the pad and the utensil to the older alchemist.

"Have fun," he smiled, "Glad you're feeling better."

"Indeed. Now we can finish off the cretin who would dare to threaten this country."

"Let's focus on figuring out who they are, first."

He smiled and turned his attention to the pad at his front, enthusiastically sketching his 'angel'.

* * *

Roy looked at the phone and hung it up decisively. Turning his searing gaze back to the papers at his front, he ran his fingers through his mop of black hair. If Amelie really had visited Armstrong, it meant she had done him a favor. Giving him back the strongest fighter he had in his arsenal. And the way Armstrong had described her...

Maybe Hughes was giving him some sort of sign. His best friend had said almost the exact same thing about his little sister when he'd woken up. Saying that she, before his glasses were on, looked like an angel at his bedside. Like someone who'd visited him in a dream.

Only after he'd sounded the alarm did he learn that Amelie had intended to help Hughes, not finish him off. But, even with his best friend assuring him that the girl had meant no harm...he still hadn't regretted pulling the switch that had brought in the military police. So focused on his ambition that he'd willingly given her up. He'd just wanted her gone. He'd wanted one less obstacle in his way to saving the country he loved so dearly.

Having the official report in front of him...

They'd made her their killer. What he and his soldiers hadn't done in Ishbal, the brass had forced on her right here in Central. Philosopher's stones, using the living to create the undying...She'd seen bits of it. Traces. Her alchemy had proven useful even if she wasn't the one using it. Just seeing the knowledge she had and transferring it into the hands of capable alchemists eager to serve their country...

And when she'd ran away, the manhunt was on. The men she'd killed might've been asking for it. They might've forgotten their duty to the innocent denizens of their country. But she still ripped them apart. Bodies found without blood. Bones so shattered they were like soup. Insides littering the walls and floors as if she'd used them like paint. One man's skull had been bashed in hard enough for his eyeballs to be forced from their sockets. The only thing the report couldn't account for was how she'd done it.

No weapons. No signs of a struggle. Bodies in a pile like garbage so carelessly tossed aside. The cause probably wouldn't have been found if some coroner hadn't pointed out the small, almost invisible, signs of alchemy all over the bodies.

And that was when she became the villain. Using the alchemy they'd honed in her to kill them. That was when his little sister had become an enemy of the state.

Letting the pages fall back into place, he closed up the extended report he'd been browsing for the last few hours. He'd hoped there would be enough evidence to go to the court system and demand her exoneration. But that wasn't what he'd found. Far from exonerating her, the report demonized her and highlighted every error she'd made in her life. It even had sparse details from the warrants in other countries. None of them appeared illegitimate. He couldn't defend her if she was in the wrong. All he could hope to do was show them that she'd been forced to do what she'd done. Only then would the courts even consider reevaluating her sentence.

Someone knocked on his door. Gathering the report up in one hand and shoving it to the crook of his elbow, he made his way downstairs. He opened the door and was greeted by Major Hawkeye. She looked, if he could even describe it, happy. She had a basket in her hands. He stepped aside silently and she ushered herself in. Laying aside the report on a table in the foyer, he stared at her for a moment while she removed her thick coat, revealing her civilian clothes underneath.

"Major..."

She offered him the basket, "I brought you dinner."

He could smell roasted buns, savory meat, the warmth seeping into his bare hands, "That's very thoughtful of you."

"Is she still asleep?"

He stared back at her blankly for a moment before he realized she was inquiring about Amelie. He shook his head, "No. She took off. And I just got a phone call from Al stating Lieutenant-Colonel Armstrong was healed. At least enough to return him to his usual self."

Her brow furrowed, "You think it was Amelie, sir?"

"I think she's the only alchemist around who can heal someone that well without use of a philosopher's stone. Not to mention she obviously did something similar to herself. The way she was this morning, I doubt she could've walked a block without passing out."

Hawkeye hung her coat on a little catch-all by the living room door, walking further into the house. Mustang followed, smirking at how she always seemed perfectly at home in his own. Making her way into the kitchen, she reached into the cupboards and pulled out plates and cups, laying them on the island in the middle of the large kitchen. The basket emptied and the succulent meal laid out, Mustang poured them each a glass of red wine.

"I had Falman scour the reports from last night's encounter. There were several eyewitnesses who claimed to have seen the creature, and one who said it vanished in a smoke cloud."

"So not a chimera? Or a homunculus?"

"There's no known creature that can simply disappear."

She was dishing out steamed pork buns when he sat and he sipped at the wine, looking deep past the bottom of the glass, "There are skilled alchemists who could alter the composition of the ground, moving through seemingly solid objects. Others who might even be able to vaporize the air to produce smoke. But making something disappear..."

"Breda made a mention that Amelie might be able to do such a thing. Advanced as her alchemy is."

"That had crossed my mind, too."

"Do you think she's playing both sides, sir?"

"I think she's someone we need to keep an eye on. She was injured badly enough in the fight, but if she knew she could heal herself, it wouldn't be much of a concern."

"Do you think she would come all the way back to Central just to kill us?"

Roy looked at the red wine, salvation, as it reminded him of what she'd been capable of in the past...pushed to it or not, she could strike deadly accurate when she was in a corner. But the wine offered no other reminder than that and he looked back into the hazelnut eyes of his right-hand.

"No."

"Even if she thinks we're after her, we need to find her. If only to prove she's not involved with this new threat."

"We'd have to do it ourselves. No soldiers. And with this creature trying to pick us off one by one...splitting up to find her would make its job easier. Unless..."

She stopped poking her food around and looked at him, eyes daring him to say more along the trail he was heading.

"General..."

"She would come if I were in danger."

"You don't know that."

"She was at the pub. She healed Armstrong. She knows our men and she knows when they need her attention. I'm next on that list. If the mastermind behind all of this thinks he can catch me off guard...it might just draw him out like Havoc did."

"I can't let you put yourself at harm's reach any more than you already have, sir."

"We may not have a choice. If we want to find her, putting me in front of harm's fist may be the best bet. Not to mention, we may find out if she's allied with this creature."

"It's a gamble, sir."

"Especially since I would have to be alone."

Their eyes met, her tight jaw silently saying just what she wouldn't aloud. She took a sip of her wine and looked down at her plate. Grateful her tense gaze was averted from him, he took inventory of his own food.

"And what if she doesn't come?"

He raised his eyes to see her again, her face downcast and eyes hidden, "I would fight it off."

"And what if it won?"

"Have a little faith."

"What if it won, sir?"

He swallowed down the fear in his throat, "It won't."

"It subdued Lieutenant-Colonel Armstrong long enough to carve that message in him. Edward and Alphonse stabbed it, you set it on fire and yet it didn't die. We don't even know if it's a homunculus or something else all together. And you want to face it alone for the off chance that Amelie might show up?"

"Yes."

"We don't even know if she could fight it. Or be in any shape to stop it. And if she is allied with it, you're setting yourself up as an easier mark than you realize."

He sighed, "I have to give her a chance, Riza."


	7. Undone

Ed gave a deep exhale into his cupped flesh fist, warming it. The air outside had been frigid and as if the point hadn't already been made clear earlier, it started snowing again to refresh the white scenery. His automail creaking and the ports starting to burn his skin, he'd come back inside without saying the real reason in front of Winry. She seemed perfectly content to continue the search for whatever traces this girl had left behind, but Ed had had enough torment against his body. She'd locked her arm around the crook of his elbow again and he couldn't help but look at it, worried.

Al stood to greet them and his inquiring face asked the question Ed could see coming a mile away. He shook his head preemptively, "No sign of her."

His younger brother deflated a bit, but looked to the notepad and handed it over, "But she was here."

Sure enough, the drawing on the pad looked exactly like her. Even those deep eyes, haunted for their travels. Ed sighed, handing the notepad back, "Where's Armstrong now?"

"He went to the mess hall. I couldn't stop him. But the nurse said he won't be discharged, not for a while. He's still injured enough to keep him out of action."

"We should keep looking for her," Ed sighed.

"The General told me not to. He doesn't want her to think we're after her for the wrong reasons. He says she'll be fine."

Crossing his arms across his chest, his automail creaked and he saw Winry's eyes dart down to the offending source of the sound. She looked to him plaintively and he nodded, "Yeah, I know."

"You can fight better with it if it's not frozen."

"I was hoping to avoid fighting at all."

She gave a little smile, "Like that'll ever happen."

* * *

Hands shoved deep in his pockets, Roy Mustang trudged through ankle-deep snow. With the plan he concocted, he needed the Elric brothers to know about it. Even if they weren't going to be there, they needed to know what was about to happen. He'd kept them in the dark too many times before and, truthfully, each time it had backfired.

Finding their little townhouse in a row of similar buildings, he knocked on the door. The lights upstairs told him that at least one of the brothers was home. He waited until the sound of the door unlocking made him stand a little straighter. Alphonse opened the door, his boyish smile warm and inviting.

"General. Didn't think you'd be here."

Mustang started to respond when he heard a yelp from inside the house. Distinctly Edward's. He looked past Al to see if he could spot where it was coming from and, when he couldn't, looked back to the boy.

The younger brother shrugged, "Brother's having his automail replaced. Did you want to come in?"

Roy nodded and stepped inside. Al bolted the door shut behind him and moved past the larger alchemist to the kitchen, "I was going to have some tea. Care for some?"

"No. Thank you," Roy said, distracted by another pained and muffled yelp coming from upstairs.

It was his fault that Edward still had automail. He had no doubt about that. His fault that, when Edward stood before the Gate, the youth had chosen his brother's body and Roy's eyesight over his own limbs. The philosopher's stone that had been used to open the damned thing only allowed so much to be taken back. There just wasn't enough wiggle room for Ed to have his limbs back. The boy had made the call on his own and Roy could only imagine how things might have been different if he'd been there to change the alchemist's mind. He would have gladly suffered blindness. But Ed didn't see it that way. He'd found his goal: Alphonse's body. Anything else was gravy.

Roy had yet to thank him for his choice. He couldn't find any words that even began to sum up the sacrifice Ed had made for him.

"So, what brought you our way?"

Mustang remained standing while Al sat on the couch with a steaming cup in hand, "I'm going to use myself as bait for that creature."

"You need Brother and I?"

"No. I need you two somewhere else. I'm hoping Amelie will show up."

Al's brow furrowed, "Are you trying to capture the monster or Amelie?"

"Amelie."

"General..."

"I'm not turning her in. But she does need to be under surveillance. She's dangerous and powerful. That's a combination I can't let roam free. At least if she's with us, she's not a prisoner of the military."

"She won't see it that way."

"I know. Which is why I need you and Fullmetal to be on alert. If she tries to run...I need you two to apprehend her."

"So, you want us there to catch her, but to stay out of your way while you're fighting a creature that wholly trounced us last time?"

"Yes."

"Brother won't like it any more than I do."

"I've already convinced Hawkeye. I'd have thought you two would be easy."

Al gave a soft smile, "How'd you convince the major?"

"She knows I have to catch Amelie."

"Does she know she's your sister?"

"Yes."

"Do you really think Amelie will show up?"

Roy sighed, "She's had uncanny timing so far."

"I'm sure the major already went over all the risks with you..."

"So I would appreciate it if you didn't reiterate them, thank you," Roy said quickly.

The younger alchemist only sipped at the tea. Roy watched him. Whether it was the years in that tin can that had done it or just personality, Al's face was so readable. Every emotion, every thought, played out over it in exaggerated form—at the moment, furrowed brows and a worried lip. In that respect, he and his brother were nothing alike. Other things though, Roy could see the similarities in. Their hair and eyes, their build...it was strange to think that they were almost the same height. Edward had grown and Alphonse had come back tall...they'd compared heights almost obsessively for the first month after the revival of Al's body. The young miss Rockbell had given up. She was, she loathed to admit, shorter than both of them if only by inches.

They'd all grown so much.

He supposed he should've counted himself lucky. He was able to watch them grow and change. He hadn't been able to do the same for his little sister.

"So, what's your plan? Besides wriggling on a hook?"

The General gave a little smirk. Al rolled his eyes.

* * *

It was her own damn fault. Her fault for moving so soon after the initial fight. Her fault for being stubborn and afraid. Maybe...just maybe, Roy wouldn't have turned her in. Just maybe, he would've helped her through the natural healing process, kept her hidden if nothing else.

But she didn't want to risk it. And now, she was being thrown against some sewer wall like a rat in the way of a tornado.

She was slow, still jumbled in the head, and in no condition to fight. She hadn't gone looking for trouble, but it always seemed to make housecalls for her. The creature was barely able to hunker down within the walls and tunnels. Its shoulders scraped the tops of the stonework. The flesh, human-like skin shone with icicles. Every breath it exhaled failed to condense. It was as cold as the air around it. And it's icy grip was around her waist.

She pressed her palms against the wrist, trying to disassemble the flesh there. But her head wouldn't form the transmutation. She couldn't do more than claw at it. And even that only left little pink lines of irritation. Those eyes stared dumbly at her, studying her. The pressure against her ribs was shooting around her body, the grind and squelch of bones and organs as they moved unnaturally loud against the eerily silent tunnel. She gasped, her lungs unwilling to give her fresh air.

It wasn't trying to kill her. It was studying her. Even in that vacant gaze, she could see some intelligence. Some thought forming. With its dog-like maw half open, tongue hanging limp across jagged teeth and ears akin to any man's, it was an oddity. Something she'd never seen.

The hand around her owned seven fingers. Two of them were like thumbs and left the other five to be its fist. Raised on two feet, she could see feline legs only without hair. A long ankle and broad foot gave it some advantage in the sewer.

But those eyes...

She stopped struggling for a moment, reaching out for the face. Even at her worst, she was sure she could ascertain something by alchemy. But the moment her fingers touched the cold flesh, it dropped her. She coughed, the sludging ice-water splashing up into her face and clothes. The creature was looking down the tunnel. Without another regard for her, it started walking towards whatever had caught its attention.

Getting all fours under her, she leaned up against the tunnel wall while it slowly lumbered out of sight. It could have killed her when she'd stumbled upon it. She no doubt startled it, waking it from the nap it was taking in a dead end. And waking any animal, man or beast, was hazardous to one's health.

Standing, she limped after it. It was slow enough for her to keep up with, broken bones and injuries and all. It had a destination, that much she could tell. She wiped her hand across her face and spat out blood. It steamed a moment before the warmth was drained into the cold stone of the labyrinth walls. Her shoulder cracked when she rolled it to tighten her coat back up.

The creature hesitated for a moment and she froze, ready to run if it turned back to finish her off. But, even for the moment it was still, she didn't feel threatened. It had no interest in her. None. Walking closer, she tried to find the creature's eyes again as it swayed its head side to side, searching.

Reaching overhead, it touched the rounded ceiling. Amelie's mouth dropped open to watch it slide through solid stone. It climbed upwards, pulling itself from the sewers like it was gliding effortlessly through air or water. But the stone never shattered. Never wavered. It just gave way for the mass of the creature. In the few moments it took for the thing to climb out, Amelie had remained transfixed. Her mind ran through all the transmutations she knew, finding not a one that could accomplish that without some form of displacement. In all her talents, she couldn't move through a solid surface without leaving some evidence of it; the solid would have to undergo a change and even then...

She forced herself to run. The creature out of sight, she had to catch up to it before she lost all traces. It showed power she didn't know, couldn't understand. She wanted to remedy her ignorance.

* * *

The wind ripped his coat around like falling leaves. It tore through the thick material to chill him to the bone. But he remained steadfast on the path he'd chosen. The evening gold that belied the cold of the air was painting everything. Both hands were gloved. The nearest support he had was a hundred feet higher and fourteen blocks left of him. And with the wind the way it was, the sun setting quickly behind a frozen horizon, it would take more than a few minutes for reinforcements to arrive if things went wrong.

He tripped.

Falling to all fours, he shook his head and looked behind to see what had caused his unusual lack of grace.

A finger was protruding from the ground. A massive finger. And the more Roy Mustang watched, the more of a massive body followed it. The creature he and his had faced before was clawing its way up through solid ground. He quickly got his feet under him, waiting before he struck. If that beast could present him with a vital target, he might be able to subdue it long enough for the intended prey to show up.

Backing up, the creature's other hand shot up through the ground where he'd been standing. Waiting was the worst part. Unable to get a decent shot in. Unwilling to waste what little time he was sure he had. Hand poised, fingers tight, he waited. The hulking back of the creature slowly rose through concrete and snow, its hands pushing its body upwards and leaving no indication of what it was accomplishing.

The sluggish movements gave way to a swift blur and Roy crossed his arms over his chest to block the oncoming blow. Hit by the creature's forearm, he careened aimlessly through the air before reuniting with the ground and rolling several yards. The snow seeped into the creases of his clothes, freezing him ever more thoroughly. The beast charged and he didn't bother standing. He snapped his fingers and watched his flame dart between them. The thing howled and skidded to a halt. Its face had taken the brunt of the explosion.

Feet under him, Roy snapped again, engulfing the entire creature in flames. The howling pierced his eardrums. The flames stayed strong, willed to burn by his alchemy.

The beast charged, leaving the flames behind. Roy stood his ground, snapped again and creating another fireball in front of the thing only to have the alchemy disrupted by the unseemly fast speed. The fire withered and the creature still ran straight for him. But Roy didn't move. He waited.

Almost able to feel the breeze from the creature, he jumped to the side. He rolled, grateful there was enough snow to pad his landing. The creature backpedaled, skidding along the snow for a moment before veering back to find Roy in its sights again. Getting his feet back under him, he readied to dodge again. He smiled. As long as this thing was trying to tackle him, he could stay ahead of the game and wait it out.

He dodged again, sure he'd missed the attack, only to feel the thick trunk of an arm catch him in the ribs. Hands and legs sprawled forward from his body, his momentum stopped quick and hard, he was thrown back. It felt like his lungs had been collapsed, the air forced out. Gasping, he felt his body tumble and stop. The pain in his leg shot up his body and he quickly tried to take the pressure off his left leg. It had been bent back under him the wrong way and he was sure he'd broken it. His breath fast for the pain and the lingering effects of being thrown back, he could barely keep his eyes open enough to realize the creature was running towards where he'd landed.

Slamming his hand to the ground, he threw the snow into alchemical disarray and boiled it. The steam rose up hot and offered Roy some cover to shakily walk away. The heat of the steam burned the creature's skin enough to stall it. It groaned, pawing at its skin to relieve the tightness of being burned. Using the moment to throw off another snap, Roy watched it go up in smoke. He tried to remain standing and found his left leg unwilling to cooperate. He crumpled, trying to rub feeling back into the offended limb.

Even fire wasn't stopping this thing. It charged again, emerging from the fire and steam like a devil on his chariot. When he tried to stand and yelped for the pain that shot up his body, he fell ungracefully back to the snow. The creature grabbed him with one hand and threw him again. The snow was soft for a landing, but rolling hard into the side of a stone wall didn't ease his attempts at catching his breath. The creature lumbered over him again, picking him up so his feet dangled a good meter off the ground. It squeezed and Roy felt his ribs crack. Even with the desperate need to free himself, he managed to snap again. One pinpointed, the other grand and sweeping. But the creature hardly reacted. It was like it was becoming accustomed to it. His lungs unable to bring in fresh oxygen, his vision going gray around the edges, the fires didn't last long when his concentration was ripped away from him.

The grip around his torso tightened and he felt the reallocation of weight before the creature actually moved. He was slammed against the side of a building and the bricks behind him caved in. The small bit of air that was in his lungs was forced out, blood splattering on the creature's flesh after being spewed from his mouth at impact. Held hostage against the wall, Roy could barely muster the energy to fight when the beast pointed a free clawed-hand at him. The sharp nail scraped against his chest, slicing through fabric to reach skin. Roy couldn't bite back a scream when the creature viciously stabbed him through his shoulder; the nail went straight through and hit the brick wall behind him.

Pulling the nail from the wound was almost worse than it being created in the first place. Roy could hear tearing flesh and felt warm blood flow freely down his front. Grinding his teeth, he felt some relief when then creature stopped pinioning him brutishly hard against the bricks. Able to breath and finding some color back in his vision, he noticed the creature wasn't focused on him anymore. He followed its gaze to see Amelie.

She was looking between them. Eyes wide, mouth agape and puffs of air condensing to cold. Still in the beast's grip, it started walking closer to her. She backpedaled, tripping for her frantic need to get away. On her rear, she looked helplessly at the figure as it towered over her.

"Roy..."

Her voice was so meek, the Flame Alchemist almost hadn't heard it. She was begging him, that tone of voice and that one word conveying all the same need as a desperate shout for help.

He tried to pry open the fist holding him, his hands gaining no purchase on the icy skin. His blood was freezing against his flesh and clothes, robbing him of warmth and strength.

"...hold on..."

His eyes widened and he managed to catch of glimpse of her alchemy, blue and electric, as it ripped up through the ground and created a spear that impaled the wrist of the creature. The beast roared and opened its hand reflexively allowing Roy to drop in a heap to the snow. Amelie quickly crawled over to him and he found himself laughing even as he coughed up blood.

The moment of reprieve was cut short as the creature tore himself free of the spear. It loomed over them and she put her hands out, shielding her brother.

"Don't touch me," she whispered.

His brow furrowed and he watched, helpless, as the monstrosity grabbed at her. Nonchalant, she put both her hands on its face, ducking her head and closing her eyes. Her palms were glowing soft gold, the creature stilled and subdued by the touch. Roy forced himself to lean up a bit, his blood leaving a thick red welt against the snow. Whatever she was doing, the creature was placid. Its eyes drooped and it fell to its knees.

In a moment, it was over and she yanked her hands away from the thing. Her breathing was rapid, shallow, and she stood spastically. The beast keened over, falling into the snow and remaining immobile. It started to sink back into the ground.

Had she killed it?

The question that almost formed on his lips disappeared when she walked away, gaining speed the farther she got from him. Moving at all made white stars flash behind his eyes and his impaled shoulder ripped cruelly at his consciousness.

He could only hope Fullmetal and Alphonse were ready for her. Forcing himself to his knees, his right arm hanging limp at his side, he tried to move away from the beast. The sun had set, the very last licks of copper against the sky were quickly vanishing.

"General!"

He felt hands wrap around him, steady him to keep him from faltering. He let himself fall into his good Samaritan, those chocolate eyes strong but glazed.


	8. Indecision

Ed pulled the binoculars away from his face to see his target running parallel to the street he was on. No doubt Alphonse had seen her, too. The General had done his insane part of the plan. Now it was up to them. Leaving his binoculars behind, he ran full tilt down the stairs to the balcony a few levels down, jumping across to the next rooftop. With the uncharacteristic weather, there were no crowds. She would be easy to find since people had stayed in. Darting across the snowy rooftops, he caught up to her easily and noticed her slowing. She wiped her arm across her face, coming away with blood on her sleeve.

He got a block ahead of her, using her slowing pace to his advantage. Sliding down a fire-escape and coming to the end of the alley, he listened for her. Her footsteps were heavy, tired and sluggish. Rounding the corner and facing her head on, she gasped.

They stared at each other for a moment.

"I guess we should be thanking you."

Her brow furrowed, "That...you were watching the whole time?"

"How'd you kill it?"

"You saw what that thing was doing to Roy and you never—!"

"I was following orders. And my orders are to make sure you don't get away."

She took a shifty step backwards, "I'm not being anyone's chip."

"Mustang's trying to look out for you. Do us all a favor and stay with us. We're not turning you in."

Her jaw set and, even with her body trying to cough, she glared at him, "No. I'm not going back."

"We're not taking you in. This is for your protection."

She scoffed, "He planned this, didn't he?"

"To save you."

"I'm not going back."

"You don't have a choice," Ed took a step closer to her.

She took a reflexive step back again and Ed halted, hands out with his palms facing her, "I'm not your enemy here."

"Yes, you are. You just don't know it yet," she whispered.

"Amelie!" Alphonse yelled, a block away and closing in.

Her head spun, startled, to find the source of the voice. Ed took his chance and grabbed her wrist, latching his metal arm around her flesh and holding firm but not tight. Shocked as much by the touch as by the suddenness of it, both she and Edward gasped.

He felt like he was drowning.

She stared, gaping, "No! Let go!" she tried to remove his hand from her wrist but it had tightened with the shock of her remnant alchemy.

Al ran quicker when he saw his brother go down to his knees. The Fullmetal Alchemist coughed and choked, his automail hand caught on her like a live socket and unable to release his grip or keep it from becoming a vice.

Tears in her eyes, she clawed desperately at his hand even as she felt the bones in her wrist crack. Dropping to her own knees, she cried out when he convulsed, metal fingers squeezing her flesh and bone until they gave way.

Al skidded down in the snow at her side and clapped his hands together, "Lean back!" he warned.

Amelie did as she was told and yelped when Edward's automail turned from fist to flat blade, the hand completely absorbed into the new form. The blade extended fast and clipped between Amelie's cheek and Al's, cutting them both. Amelie jumped back, cradling her shattered wrist to her chest while Al leaned over his brother and the older Elric coughed and was finally free of the effects.

"What did you do?" Al glared at her.

"I didn't..."

His frantic eyes caught the sight of the tears freezing on her cheeks and he looked back to his brother, "Leftovers."

Ed rolled himself onto his side and coughed haggardly, forehead touching the snow to ground himself. Amelie scooted back and Al started to reach for her.

She pulled away farther, "Don't!"

He caught his own action and retracted his hand. His eyes and hers met and she started crying again, "I'm sorry."

She got shaky legs under her and stood over them for a moment, unsure. Al looked between his recovering brother and the objective he was supposed to secure.

"Amelie, we're not trying to hurt you."

"Just look after Roy. Please."

"Amelie..."

"I'm too dangerous, Alphonse. You have to let me go."

"No. We need your help. What you did—"

"Was an accident, I swear!" she cried.

"No. To that thing! You stopped it. We need your help. If you don't help us, your brother might die. We all might. We need you. Something terrible is happening and we need you to help."

Her brow furrowed and she watched the older brother look up at her. There was no hate in his eyes, only lingering pain and sympathy. She swallowed down the hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for her to help the brother she'd been torn from.

"I won't be a prisoner."

"We're not trying to do that. The General just wants you safe. That's all. And it's safer with him. And if you don't heal him, he'll have to go to a hospital. He might be detained if they find out what happened. Hell be interrogated. They'll find out about you. So we need you. He put his life on the line to find you. You're his sister. Family."

She stared at him before turning her head viciously fast to see approaching soldiers. She looked back to Alphonse and he helped his brother to his feet. Edward pushed away from him, opting to lean his hands on his upper thighs instead.

"They're with us, Amelie. And they won't hurt you," Al reiterated, seeing her look nervously behind her again. He took a step closer and she pulled back again.

He hesitated, "You tell me when it's safe to touch you. I trust you."

Her jaw worked and she turned her back on him to face the soldiers head on. Fuery and Breda ran at her from one end of the street, Falman from the other. She took a step back, putting herself behind Al from one direction and nearer to Ed coming from the other. Al let himself be a shield, grateful she at least was letting him closer to her. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, let her feel secure. But touching her was paramount to suicide at the moment.

Falman and Breda leveled their weapons and Al put his hands out placatingly, "She's no threat," he insisted.

"You okay there, boss?" Breda looked to Edward.

The alchemist nodded and took a ragged inhale, straightening, "...an accident," he wheezed.

He returned his automail blade back to its normal fist and cast his eyes up and down Amelie. She was coughing, blood spattering against the snow. Al noticed and turned to face her. His hands hovered over her.

"You're still injured," he sighed.

She nodded, coughing into her fist, "That thing...I-I ran into it in the s-sewers."

"Are you coming with us, then?" Breda asked brusquely.

"Only-only to help Roy," she hacked.

Falman turned his rifle around, letting the shoulder strap carry the weight. He approached them with a hand out and Alphonse caught it, "Don't touch her."

Falman's thin eyes gazed warily for a moment before he pulled his hand away. Kain turned his rifle, too, before looking back the way he'd come, "Major Hawkeye's bringing the General to his house. We should get Miss Rochester there."

With two soldiers in front of them and one behind and Ed and Al on each side, Amelie had a hard time walking straight. Making sure she didn't accidentally touch them was harder than she thought it'd be. Her coughing was getting worse. Al looked over at her more than she realized, brow furrowed and hands only inches away in case she faltered. She would shy away, the coughing and wheezing doing nothing to her stubborn, albeit pragmatic, refusal to be touched.

"How long?" Ed asked.

"What?" she coughed.

"Until it wears off."

She stared at him for a full moment, "I can't always say. The alchemy...the more po-powerful it is, the longer I...the longer I can remain active."

"You were dragging me to the Gate when I touched you."

"Yes."

"You're a portal. You become a conduit between here and the Gate," he mused.

She nodded, coughing again. Her fist came to her mouth, displacing the blood that shot forth. The coughing intensified and she stumbled, falling to her knees. Al dropped down next to her. Without regard to the danger, he cradled her. Ed's eyes went wide and he readied to pull his brother back when he realized there was no call to. Amelie, still coughing, didn't realize she was being steadied.

Al felt warm. Her coughing subsiding, he pulled his hands away to feel the radiant warmth on them. She looked at him sidelong, unsure. Getting back to her feet, she continued on. The soldiers ahead of her moved aside and she walked through.

She knew the way to her brother's house.

* * *

Roy hissed in pain while Hawkeye and Knox helped take his shirt off. He was seated in his bed, leaning against the headboard. The wound in his shoulder large enough for a fist to pass through, it was the doctor's first concern. It wasn't Roy's, however.

"Did they get Amelie?" the alchemist rasped.

Hawkeye kept her eyes diverted, tending to the less obvious and less threatening wounds. Face drenched in sweat and hair matted to his face, Roy glared at her and waited for her to make eye contact with him.

"Major..."

"I don't know, sir."

"You...you need to find out. Get on the radio and...and talk to Fuery. Make sure they found her."

"I'm not leaving."

"Dammit, Hawkeye—!" he doubled over, the expletive too much for his battered lungs, and started coughing.

She winced with each harsh, rough exhale. She and Knox exchanged a glance and she stood a bit straighter. With Roy's coughing fit done, she found his eyes and waited. His glare was unmistakable, even with his body covered in blood.

She slapped him. Hard.

Knox gasped and Roy held fast onto his abused cheek. Stunned, wide eyes never looked back to hers and she waited for the reprimand that didn't come forth. After an aching moment of silence, she walked out.

Knox leaned Roy back against the headboard and started examining the shoulder wound. The General only kept his pain-glazed eyes forward, face tight with pain.

"I'm an idiot," he whispered.

"I wasn't about to say it."

"Thanks."

The door downstairs opened before being promptly slammed shut and Roy winced against the reverberating thud. He was about to make some facetious remark when he heard a small army of footsteps come up the stairs and towards his room. They halted down the hall of his door and only two continued on.

He looked, hopeful, and saw Hawkeye open the door and Amelie walk in.

His major gave a stern, but grateful look to the back of his sister's head, "She found you, sir."

The Soul Alchemist walked forward into the room and, ignoring the confused and curious look on Knox's face, allowed Hawkeye to close the door behind her. She sat on the bed and looked between Roy and the doctor.

"I can help. If you want me to," she offered.

"What can you do?" Knox asked; there was no indignation or sarcasm in his voice.

Her eyes closed, she reached forward and placed her hands gently on Roy's temples. He gasped soundlessly when he felt warm energy run through him. Although not painful, it felt like his whole body had been asleep, deprived blood flow, and was just now waking up. He tingled, shuddered, and felt his lungs draw in breath like he'd just come up for air.

His mind went blank, the stillness refreshing after the chaos of a fight. Each second brought forth new tingling awareness before a warm dim of that sensation. The searing pain of his shoulder slowly turned to peaceful wholeness and he felt satiated when she pulled her hands away.

Going limp, he leaned against the headboard and fought to keep his eyes open. Like being coddled in a warm blanket, it was all he could do to fight sleep. He looked over to Amelie and found her just as helpless as he was. Knox was steadying her. But she looked to be losing the battle he was determined to win. She gave a soft little smile before sinking into slumber. His heartbeat froze for a second before Knox lifted her small form and removed her from the room.

The moment the doctor came back in, Roy tried to sit up.

"Don't bother. She'll be fine. She's in a spare room."

"Thank you."

"Don't say that, yet. You're going to have a helluva lot of explaining to do in the morning, Mustang."

Giving a weak smile, Roy sank down into his bed and let himself drift off. Whatever explanation he had to give, he could think of it when his body wasn't begging to fall into slumber.

* * *

Edward had seen things that had appeared unexplainable before. Mostly, science had prevailed and he'd gotten some semblance of an answer. But seeing the extreme opposite reactions he and his brother had to Amelie, he wasn't entirely sure what to think. Or what to believe. It was quite possible that the alchemy had simply worn off by the time Al had touched her. It was also possible that it had been drained completely into Edward, giving him the brunt of the effect.

But Al didn't feel nothing, he'd said he'd felt warm. So that meant that Amelie's alchemy had still been active, but the result had been different. And that threw a wrench into things that Edward wasn't sure how to get around. But with all of them huddled in Mustang's living room, watching the fire crackle in the fireplace, he was at least able to think.

Seeing motion out of the corner of his eye, he was relieved to see Major Hawkeye walk down. Even if she was alone, her face was about as calm as it ever could be. Amelie was doing what she could for her brother and that was enough to still Ed's worried mind for at least some moment.

Al walked back into the living room with a serving tray full of tea and cups, handing out one to each of those present. The duty passed out, he sat across from Ed and cradled his own cup. He spared a look to Hawkeye.

"How is he?"

She exhaled smoothly, "He'll be fine. Sore, I would imagine."

"If Amelie could do the same for him as she did Armstrong, he'll be more than fine," Ed allowed.

"What happened when we got there, Ed?" Fuery asked.

"For whatever reason, her alchemy isn't deactivated quickly. The energy...what she did to that monster, it started happening to me. It felt like being pulled back to the Gate."

"But, how is that possible? Ain't it some kind of taboo?" Breda poked at the fire.

"She's able to do it. And she's a conduit of some sort. Using her body like a path for the soul to cross. Touching her after she's activated her alchemy is the same as dying."

"Then what about Alphonse?" Falman asked, "He touched her, too."

"I don't know."

"I still felt alchemy, but it wasn't like what Brother felt. Not at all. But it was there. So she wasn't...empty. It just reacts differently, I guess."

"But there has to be a reason for it," Ed sighed.

"His body?" Hawkeye asked.

Everyone looked at her and she kept her gaze to the fire, "If his body was at the Gate all those years, could it be that her alchemy has the opposite effect on him?"

"It makes sense," Al nodded, "If my body was without a soul for all that time, it wouldn't react so harshly to her being a conduit. My soul's been pulled from this body before. Maybe it has no attachment to it."

"And then it wouldn't be too crazy to say that maybe because of that, the Gate doesn't pull, but pushes. Like it's still trying to give his body back."

"I don't know alchemy, but that sounds messed up to me," Breda crossed his arms over his chest.

"We're not dealing with traditional alchemy here. It's far more advanced than anything Al or I could pull off. And if she's using the Gate's energy without paying for it, she would be able to do what she's done. And then some."

Knox walked down the stairs and Hawkeye stood, her tea put aside. Without asking, without the question ever leaving her lips, Knox knew enough and waved her to sit down.

"They're both fine. That girl...I've never seen medical alchemy like that. Wore her out. Both of them, truth be told. Sleeping it off looks to be the best bet."

"The General will be okay?" Hawkeye asked, the smallest look of doubt in her eyes.

Knox nodded, "Far as I can tell, the shoulder wound was all she worked on. But it was the worst wound he had. He'll still have some broken ribs, be bruised all to hell, but he's out of the woods."

"And Amelie?" Alphonse asked.

"Strong pulse. And seeing what a miraculous recovery she's made, I doubt she's the one we need to be worrying about."

"Recovery? You saw her wounds before this?" Ed asked.

"Yeah, yesterday."

"She came to you?" Alphonse asked.

Knox frowned, "She was in Mustang's bed. What? You didn't know?"

Ed shot half a glare towards Hawkeye, "No. I didn't."

The coroner shrugged and plopped down on the couch, "Well, she's lucky to be alive is all I can say. And if Mustang can keep from getting pounded to a pulp again..."

"One problem down. But this is far from over," Ed steepled his fingers, looking into the fire.

* * *

Amelie wasn't sure what she was supposed to believe. Or do. With the Gate looming in front of her, the beast as well, she felt ridiculously outmatched. But the creature was placid. Unable to kill it, she'd done all she could by keeping its soul in limbo. At least it wouldn't be doing her brother or his men any more harm. Walking up to the beast, she gently placed her hand on its forehead.

"Who made you?" she asked.

But without an answer, she was clueless. She could feel the multiple souls shoved into one container. Each cried out for dominance. But at the forefront was a human being.

"Just kill the thing and get it over with," her brother said in exasperation.

She shook her head, "No. We can't kill it."

Roy sighed, "Why not?"

"I wouldn't be able to bring so many souls into the Gate at once. For each I killed, this monster would become new. Something unpredictable. We can't risk that."

"So, keeping it stuck here is the better option? What if something happens and it gets loose?"

"It won't. The Gate is like a magnet. Once the souls have been displaced, it keeps them reined in."

"Then why are we here?" Roy asked, looking around.

"I'm here. You're just some figment of my mind."

"You sure? Because I doubt I'd just show up on command."

Brow furrowed, Amelie looked to the Gate. It was still. Peaceful, almost. Sometimes it was like this. Just another doorway that held no more meaning than that. Other times, it was a hurricane. Swallowing everything up in its maw.

"So, you're really going to waste all your talents just to help the man who betrayed you?" Truth asked.

The white figure appeared from nowhere. Shaped like a human with only a greedy smile discernible on that face. She'd gotten used to the taunting over the years. That, and the riddles. And the questions. For a thing that was omniscient, it did like to hear itself talk.

"Hey, I'm family!" Roy protested.

"And yet you turned her out without a second thought."

"This is bigger than him or me..." Amelie trailed off.

"What will you do? Save a country that deemed you a criminal? Or let them rot in the hell they allotted you?"

Smiling, she looked around at the vast white eternity, "This isn't hell. It's a sanctuary. I don't mind at all."

Truth scoffed, "You're never going to give up, are you?"

She shrugged, "Guess not."


	9. Black and White

**A/N: With the 104th manga of FMA coming out, there will be some major spoilers involved here in this section. Just beware. Thanks for those who have given feedback. Always appreciated!**

**

* * *

**

Al hadn't really meant to look in. But with the door half-opened to begin with, and seeing her curled on her side, she looked too pathetic to ignore. He'd closed the door behind himself before crossing the room and sitting on the side of the bed. Her skin was clammy, her white hair matted to her brow. Reaching for the blankets, he pulled them up higher, tucking them to her chin. She shifted a bit and he quickly withdrew his hand. But she stayed asleep, worn out from the fight and the alchemy she'd unleashed.

Venturing forth again, he reached for the wrist his brother had inadvertently shattered. It was swollen, purple-red and he could see the bones pushing unnaturally against the skin from the inside. Looking around, he quickly found some old firewood that became a transmuted splint, and sheets that were in the closet became strips for gauze.

Medical alchemy wasn't what he was good at. The little he'd learned from Mei, he'd learned mostly in theory. But even if the alchemy was different between here and Xing, the results weren't. Pressing his hands together silently, he touched her wrist and slowly felt the bones rework and knit together. Taking his hands away, he gave a soft smile to see most of the swelling gone. It was a start, at least. He wrapped the half-healed wrist in the splint. No doubt she would be able to heal it the rest of the way, more detailed in her alchemy than he could be.

Tucking her arm back under the blanket, Al reached for the hair that had been matted to her face. The blood stains were so obvious against such pale skin. The scratches and wounds hadn't been tended to for the commotion.

Leaving her side, he walked to the bathroom and pulled a washcloth from the linen closet. He let the faucet run until the water was warm and filled a basin. Setting it on the nightstand by her bed, he took up his seat once more and started to gently wipe away the dried and thawing blood. It had drained down her neck from her forehead.

She stirred again and this time her obsidian eyes opened to find him. Al froze, unsure how she would react to being mended. They stared at each other for a long moment before her hand slowly crept out from under the blankets to take his.

"Is Roy okay?"

Al nodded, "Yes."

"You're not afraid of me."

"I think fascinated is more the word for it," he gave a weak smile.

She sat up a bit, leaning against the headboard, "You know, the last person to say I was 'fascinating' was Maes."

"He was a good friend."

"I wish I could've been around for the funeral. He and Roy...they were like brothers."

She noticed the splint on her wrist. Al shrugged, "I'm not as good as you. But its the least I could do."

"Thank you. Is your brother all right?"

"He'll be fine."

"Why would you all go through this much trouble? What's so dangerous that you need me around?"

Giving a heavy sigh, Al resumed cleaning her wounds, "It's a long, long story."

"Well, we have a little time, at least. And if you plan on keeping me here, the least you can do is let me know why."

"Well, at least you know what the Gate is. And what homunculi are. That'll take some time from the story."

She closed her eyes when he ran the warm cloth over her brow, "Who did you try to resurrect?"

Al's hand froze and he stared at her. She opened her eyes to look him in his. He pulled his hand away and looked down.

"You can tell?"

"Even without your brother's automail and your ability to transmute sans circle, your soul would still scream to me."

He met her gaze, "Our mom. She died when we were kids."

"I'm sorry."

"It was a stupid mistake. We were lucky to survive."

"Stupid mistake, yes. But luck had nothing to do with it, I'm sure," she gave a soft smile.

"Well, I guess that's where our story starts. But the rest of it..."

"Let me guess: it all started long ago."

He returned her smile, "Yeah."

* * *

Ed tossed down the notepad that held all of Al's transcribed data. He admitted he didn't care for languages. Al did. His younger brother would be able to understand more of it, better. They'd been focusing on the hit list more than anything, but seeing the rest of it when it wasn't carved in flesh made for more concern.

"If this nationwide transmutation circle is activated, not only are we going to get yanked into it, but whoever's causing it will become...a god. A philosopher's stone and an immortal with incredible knowledge of alchemy. Fighting that would be impossible."

"But you said they would have to activate the array. What about the solar eclipse?" Breda asked.

"I don't know. That's the one thing I can't account for."

"Its an alchemical style," a meek voice spoke up.

Edward looked up to find his younger brother and Amelie standing at the entrance to the living room. Amelie, still pale, had her arms wrapped around her front and she was nibbling at her lip as they all turned to look at her for the seemingly simple explanation.

Ed's brow furrowed, "Style?"

She nodded, "Father's style of alchemy was Xerxean. Their alchemy relied heavily on celestial cycles. Eclipses, equinoxes...full moons, even."

"So, wait, you're telling me there are three kinds of alchemy?" Ed asked.

Everyone's eyes were on her. Her mouth formed little shapes as she tried to think of her words, the silent gape on her face changing from surprise to concern before she quickly said, "Actually, there are 42."

Ed blinked. Al sat down. She swallowed, wetting her lips, "But the point is: the alchemy used for the country-wide transmutation was activated with the eclipse. That was the style of alchemy Xerxes used. Considering Father's origins..."

"So you're saying there's another style of alchemy that could be used to activate the circle," Al caught on.

She nodded, "Yes."

"Can you tell us who sent that monster after us?"

She shook her head, "The souls are in disarray. I can't do more than just acknowledge them. They're all in pain."

"So it was a chimera?" Hawkeye asked.

"It is...and it's not. It's a hybrid. A chimera mixed with something else. Given the amount of souls and the ability to heal...I would say it was combined with a homunculus. Or at least is using a Philosopher's Stone as a core."

"It moved through solid mass without displacement. What about that?" Al asked.

Amelie shrugged, "I don't know."

Ed gave a small smile, "Don't know everything, eh?"

"My passage was a toll for alchemy. Not for world history. Or for foresight, for that matter."

Ed leaned back into the thick recliner, hands braced behind his head, "So that means there's still someone out there who's one step ahead of us. And knows how to activate that circle."

"If we've beaten one pet, there might be others. May not be safe even with that creature dead," Breda pointedly crossed his arms over his chest.

"Especially if the mastermind behind all of this anticipated complications," Hawkeye allowed.

"But why come after us? Some of the ones on that list were sacrifices to begin with. Why risk killing you guys if he needs you to open the Gate?" Fuery asked.

"That beast didn't intend to kill Roy," Amelie spoke up.

"Yeah, it just meant to give him a hug," Breda scoffed.

"It was there to hurt him. Not kill. Even if I hadn't shown up, he would have survived."

"You can be sure about that?" Hawkeye asked.

Amelie nodded, "Those souls...there were in so much pain. There was sadness...and determination...even guilt...but not evil. There was no intent to kill. Any of you. It just wanted the pain to end," her eyes were focused inward, her mind visibly working through the tumultuous emotions that had been forced on her.

Al looked at his brother, "We need to erase the transmutation circle. That's the only way to end this."

The older brother sighed, "We're talking about a circle that was written in blood. How do you erase that?"

"Not to mention, each of the activation points. The death associated with them. That can't be undone," Al allowed.

"So, you're saying it can't be done?" Falman leaned forward.

"I'm saying there's no easy way to get rid of that power. Its still embedded in the earth," Ed's gaze was intent on the ceiling.

"Wouldn't some of it been used up when the transmutation circle was...opened?"

"The transmutation never finished, really. All that energy's still waiting to be redirected. Into a Philosopher's Stone...or something else," the younger brother explained.

Amelie sat on the armrest of Al's recliner, "Do you have a map of it?"

Hawkeye stood and walked over to the bookshelves on the left side of the fireplace. Reaching for a text on biology, she carefully flipped past countless diagrams before pulling a folded map from the yellowed pages. Unfolding it, Ed and the others could clearly see the transmutation circle that had been the cause of their problems from the start.

"That's the General for you," Ed smiled, leaning in once Hawkeye laid the map out on the coffee table. Amelie kneeled in front of it, studying. Her finger traced the patterns that belied their innocence. She traced the outer circle several times before pulling inwards to the marks on the earliest skirmishes. Her head tilted to the side like a curious animal, she stared at it. She inhaled as though to start a sentence before closing her mouth again.

"What?" Al asked.

"They were doing human transmutation...but it had nothing to do with a Philosopher's Stone."

"What else could this be used for? We saw Father turn into something else!" Ed glared at her.

Her brow furrowed, "A stone might have been a byproduct...but the design is too simple to be used solely for that."

"Simple?"

"A simple design always works best. Look at Roy's gloves. They're nothing extraordinary. Too complicated, the alchemy loses focus; instead it works against the alchemist and is spattered like paint through a screen. But using a simple design allows for something far more dangerous. In this case, human transmutation."

"We've seen a human transmutation circle. We know how complicated they are," Ed's voice was dangerously slow.

"Which is why they produce incomplete beings at the end...usually dead in moments. The alchemy was too dispersed."

Edward and Al shared a glance before looking back at the map. They'd studied it time and again and had never once seen anything more than a design for a Philosopher's Stone. And, with how things had ended, how Father had turned into a younger, purer being...

Amelie turned the map over and pulled a pen from the other end of the table. Drawing a circle with only one construction symbol on the inside, she looked expectantly to the brothers. They shared yet another glance before looking back at her, blank. She took Ed's flesh hand and placed it in the circle before touching one hand to the lines. The circle shot to life, blue electric ripping through the structure to seep into Ed's hand. His eyebrows knitting together, he watched as his bruised knuckles cracked and reformed without pain; the skin rippled before settling. The blue glow faded away and Ed pulled his hand back, looking it over.

"The pain's gone," he allowed; the hand hadn't been right since throwing a punch at that beast. Much like his ribs, it had paid a price for the creature's invincibility.

"If the circle is too complex, it won't work as well. This circle," Amelie turned the map back over, "is for making a body. A human body. They were trying to make a life."

"What did Dad say about Father? It was a homunculus. The original homunculus...and it had made a body from his information, right?"

Ed nodded at his little brother's sentence, "He said Father wanted something else. That all of this was for more power. But opening the Gate, dragging God or whatever it was...how could he get any more powerful?"

Amelie traced the circle again, "He wanted a mortal body. A body that could age. That could accept something like a homunculus as its soul. To be powerful enough to kill a concept...a faith"

They all stared at her. Hawkeye's eyes were wide, "It wanted to die?"

"Essentially. The body would have been versatile, don't get me wrong, but it would have been a mortal body. So if that's all he was after, the strength of all those souls would have been used to forge a perfect human body. One that could accept a fake soul without rejecting it right out. Contain power while allowing it to fade and die. That's what the circle was for. "

"So how do we erase that much dormant energy?" Al asked.

"We use it," Amelie said quietly, folding the map up and holding it to her front.

* * *

_Ishbal was dry. Arid and bright and swept up into dunes and hills from the harsh, hot winds. Nothing grew. No flowers. No streams. Water was so vacant, the deepest wells only brought up enough to support the smallest of families. It made for, in lack of definite terms, hell._

_Hell on earth._

_Roy Mustang had seen hell. Had faced it when he'd been cursed by that elder. Had caused it with each snap of his fingers. He'd even felt it creep up behind him, breathing death down his neck until it was shot by a then-unknown sniper. Hell was relative. But it wasn't exactly subjective._

_'The Hero of Ishbal'. Those he didn't even know the names of drank to him, for the lives he'd managed to save with his flames. Taking the front of each attack, clearing paths for his company to advance without fear of hidden guerillas. He was the one who saved their lives. With all the death around him, he was lauded for being the center of demise to save his men. Did that make him a hero, or a monster? He supposed it was all how he looked at it. While they drank and toasted to his greatness, he felt bile rise up in his throat. Felt his heart slow so his vision went gray. He was a hero? How could that be? When Hawkeye had asked him why alchemy was causing so much pain, he'd only averted his gaze. Now, perhaps he understood. Alchemy, the power that was supposed to be used for the people, was used to kill them because it had been ordered. Because someone stronger than him had decided to commit countless murders without ever touching a single person with his own hands. Instead, Roy's hands had been the tools._

_Someone above him had decided to erase an entire race._

_Using him, and others like him, to do it._

_Standing and leaving the party, he found the doorway and fresh, hot air. Even at night, the desert soaked up any relief. Cooler, yes. But still just as oppressive._

_"I told you this would happen," Amelie said quietly._

_His brow furrowed. Little sister or no, she was a fugitive. Someone who would be killed as soon as seen. Meeting her gaze, he saw a depth to those eyes. They'd once been so bright. He'd seen the world in them before all of this. Now...now was different. Now she had eyes like his. The eyes of a killer._

_"They just want power. Regardless of us. Of who they use to get it."_

_"Why did you come?"_

_"To see if you understood."_

_"You killed those men."_

_"I did what I had to."_

_"And why come here, all the way to Ishbal? You know I can't hide you."_

_"I'm not asking you to."_

_"Leave."_

_"Come with me. I've arranged passage to another country. We can both get out."_

_"No."_

_She stared at him, furrowed brow and all, "Roy..."_

_"My goals...my ambition won't allow it."_

_"Ambition? Goals? Are you insane? This war was senseless! Even you must see that!"_

_"It was neces—"_

_"It was murder! You're more a murderer than I am! Killing without provocation! Without self-defense! How can you say this is the life you want?"_

_"Leave, Amelie. Get out of here before someone sees you."_

_"Ashamed of me?"_

_"If you're caught, you'll be killed."_

_"And you'll let it happen, won't you?"_

_He looked at her, at those black eyes that matched the night sky. They weren't hard, but sad. He looked away._

_"Find me after I get back to Central. Until then, stay hidden. Stay safe."_

_With tears threatening to overflow, she turned on her heels and left him there. He watched her disappear into the inky night, like she'd never existed. The door slammed open and he jumped only to be calmed by the sight of a comrade, half-drunk, coming outside to find him. Nothing more. He was ushered back into the celebration, even if it was only a death-party._

_Even though she'd turned to walk away, he knew his back was all she would ever see._

* * *

Riza Hawkeye watched the Elric brothers argue. She'd seen it many times before and would no doubt see it again. Each time, she found herself amazed that Alphonse hadn't just snapped and delivered a punctuated blow. The younger brother's temperament was always so much like her own, while Edward's was more akin to Roy. Explosive and loud. Even for the General's levelheadedness, his temper was dangerous.

Seeing the boys fight, she wondered how long it would take before Roy came downstairs to only add fuel to the disagreement.

As the heated argument got louder, each of her subordinates chimed in, stating what they believed. Quiet through it all was herself and Amelie. The young woman knew what she had said and knew what would have to be done. No amount of arguing would change the fact she'd laid on the table. Nothing would change the grisly task that would be undertaken to ensure the continued safety of the country. She knew all that, so her voice remained silent while everyone else fought. Riza, for her sake, kept her own thoughts private because she knew what it was like to bear a burden. And to bury it.

She had the scar on her back to prove it.

"We can't be using those lives!" Edward yelled, his anger more directed at Amelie.

"She didn't mean it like that," Al calmly defended her.

The argument raged and her and Amelie's eyes met over the coffee table. Recognizing the look in the alchemist's eyes, she nodded. Amelie stood and walked from the room, leaving the opinions to race around without her. Hawkeye followed her.

Standing at the kitchen counter, Amelie cradled her half-full mug, the map still in her other hand. Her drink had gone cold. Hawkeye sighed and poured the last drops of her own down the drain.

"Could you do it?" she asked.

Amelie nodded, "Yes."

"They won't understand."

"No. I doubt they will."

"And Roy? Do you plan to involve him?"

"If I do, and he's discovered, it'll ruin his chances for advancement. For his goals."

"He won't want you to go alone."

Another hearty sigh, "It would only take five anchors to destroy the effectiveness of the circle. Even as a fugitive, moving about the country wouldn't be too hard."

"What will you create?"

"It could be anything. Using all that energy to create a philosopher's stone would be immoral, not to mention dangerous. Some form of human transmutation would sufficiently drain the dormant energy. I would offer to restore Edward's limbs, but he wouldn't hear of it. Using those lives for his personal gain...he doesn't seem the type to buy into that."

"So?"

Amelie sipped at her cool tea, "I'll leave. Do the job. Send word when it's safe. Hopefully it will be quick enough to counteract any threats by the masterminds behind all this. I trust you'll protect Roy if I leave."

"Without hesitation."

"I know we've never met...but thank you."

"For what?"

"For being his guardian. Its something I haven't been able to do. That damned war...all I wanted was to be there, to make sure he got through it. But you were there. I can feel the death on you. And you protected him, didn't you?"

"The best I could."

"For that, thank you."

"Aren't you the younger one?"

Amelie smiled, "We younger siblings always end up keeping the older ones in line," her gaze, Riza understood, was on the brothers in the next room.

"When will you leave?"

"The sooner, the better."

"What do you want me to tell him?"

The white-haired alchemist looked deep past the bottom of her mug, "Tell him...I'll find him when I get back to Central. Until then, I'll stay hidden. I'll stay safe."

"You should at least stay long enough to heal. Advanced as your alchemy is, you're not fully better yet."

"I can take the time on the train. But staying would only cause more arguments."

"I understand. I'll relay the message to Roy."

Amelie nodded and put her mug down. She looked to the back door that emptied into the yard. The softest of snowfalls was still bathing everything in crystal white. It would be easy for her to disappear. She looked once to Hawkeye and gave a soft smile, almost apologetic. Like she knew what the woman would have to go through to keep Roy out of the way. They never exchanged another word, but only met eyes, before Amelie grabbed a coat draped over the kitchen chair and pulled it around herself. Gently opening the door, she slipped out and closed it silently behind her.

Walking back into the living room, Riza stood and overlooked the continued argument. The boys had yet to notice Amelie's absence and she would be sure Roy didn't find out until he woke up. She could do that much. As obvious as it was that her superior wanted to protect the younger woman, it was more blatantly obvious that Amelie could handle herself and was willing to do this job alone.

Riza respected her.

"There's no easy way to do this!" Alphonse's voice was raised ever so slightly.

"Turning all of those souls into some stone isn't even an option!" Ed yelled back.

"She never said we should do that. She just said we could use the energy. There has to be another way to disperse it..."

"Like what? A Philosopher's stone is the best way to soak up all that energy."

"Her alchemy's more advanced; she'll know of something that maybe we don't."

"And how do we know she's not the one who wants us to use it?" Breda chimed in.

Al rolled his eyes, "You can't still think she's not on our side?"

"Why not? Her showing up when she did is really lucky," Ed scoffed.

"Maybe she knew who was next on the list. She might've been keeping tabs on the General anyways to make sure he was safe."

"Yeah, protecting the brother who betrayed her? That's likely!" Ed shot back.

The other officers froze, staring at the older Elric for his shout. His eyes closed and he exhaled sharply. Riza straightened a bit. If there were to be questions, she was willing to field them.

"That girl...is related to the General?" Fuery asked.

"Yeah. She's his little sister," Ed allowed quietly.

"But her last name's Rochester," Falman pointed out.

"Different mothers," Ed, Al and Riza all supplied in unison. The three of them stared at each other for a moment. Surprised as she was that Edward and Alphonse knew of the relationship, she was even more surprised to think that Roy might have told them.

"How did you find out?" she asked.

"Amelie told us," Al admitted, "We went after her that first night. Before the snow. She told us everything."

"Guessing the General told you," Ed looked at her.

She nodded, "He did."

"So, they're related? How did he get so far up the ranks being related to a wanted murderer?" Breda asked.

None of them wanted to answer. No matter how Riza, Ed or Al related the truth, it sounded too harsh. They just remained quiet, letting the three others come to the conclusion on their own. Riza found her fists clenching at her side. Her superior would continue to feel the guilt of his past, even the past he'd atoned for. And that was a battle she couldn't help him with.

"No matter what happened, she's on our side. I know it," Al said.

Ed sighed, "I don't know. There're an awful lot of coincidences."

"Well, I don't know about all of you, but I'm going home," Knox stood, waving off the others before walking into the kitchen. He came out a moment later with a furrowed brow.

"Where's my coat?"

They all shared a glance before Al looked to his older brother, "Where's Amelie?"

* * *

The train was warm compared to the platform. Even for the thick metal walls and the poorly sealed windows, it was warm and cozy. She'd been able to nab a private compartment and had slid the door shut early on. Curled up on the bench, her arm folded under head head, she remained bathed in the warm coat she'd snuck from the house. It was three sizes too long and another size too wide, but it made for a comfortable blanket. Keeping the map tucked in her pocket, she'd sized up the easiest targets that would effectively render the circle useless. If she planned it right, she could spend more time on the train than anything else, stopping only long enough to absorb the energy and transmute it to something useful.

What was useful, as opposed to morally acceptable, was still in debate to her mind. The argument she'd left behind was evidence of that. In some way, she found herself grateful that they'd all been arguing over the rights. If they hadn't, she'd be more concerned about fighting them away from whatever byproduct was produced.

Other passengers strolled by her closed doors, causing her to lift her head ever so slightly. They walked on, ignoring her closed compartment. Their silhouettes passing, she cradled her head back in the folded crook of her arm and let the soothing rock-roll of the train lure her closer to sleep.

A single, heavy thump against her door made her sit upright. The coat slid down to the floor and she felt the cooler cabin air rob her of that security she'd been slipping towards. Frozen, she couldn't see anyone beyond the sheeting of the door.

It slid open and she stood.

A man, sunglasses and smile the first things she noticed, walked into her cabin. She remained standing, her hands cold but her body soaking with sweat.

"Amelie Rochester," he cooed.

"And you are?"

He gave a soft chuckle and removed his glasses. Her eyes widened a bit before her jaw dropped. His eyes were a mismatched pair, one mechanical and the other neon blue. The mechanical one looked like it had a sensor in it, but she couldn't imagine it actually functioning like a normal bit of vision.

"Of course, let me introduce myself: My name is Roderick."

"What do you want?"

"I was hoping you'd ask that. May I sit down?"

"No."

His smile widened and he slid the door closed, "Your choice, of course. Far be it from me to impose myself upon this little sanctuary you've cooked up."

"Politeness aside, you're not welcome here."

"You haven't even heard what I have to offer."

"Not interested."

"You might be when it involves a certain Roy Mustang. I mean, with all the trouble you've gone through so far, I would imagine you'd want to hear me out."

"Roy can take care of himself."

"Not when he's trying to take care of you."

"Who are you?"

He sighed, sitting despite her earlier objection, "As I said: my name's Roderick. I am, for lack of terms, an alchemist. And I want what you're planning to do."

"I've no idea what you're talking about."

"Of course not. You're just off to some extremely volatile hotspots in this country for the sights. Not to create a stone. Not to do anything with the energy sleeping there."

"I'm not making a Philosopher's Stone with those souls. That's not what—"

"Now, now. Don't discount the possibility just because it's immoral. I mean, right and wrong don't really apply to you anyway. Considering what you can accomplish with a single touch. I'd think you, more than anyone, would be willing to use what you could and protect yourself in the process."

"Sorry. You've got the wrong girl."

"Even if it means Mustang being tossed about again? Because I wouldn't hesitate to send another hybrid after him. And his entourage, for that matter."

"Please, just leave."

"Or what? You'll kill me?"

Amelie remained quiet. The man stood and took a small step towards her. She was backed into the corner, her chest rising and falling faster as he leaned in with that ever-present smile.

"Admit it, Amelie, you're in a tight spot. I'll find you again and if you're not doing what I need you to do, you can bet your life that Roy will pay for it."

"You can't touch him. He's stronger than you think."

"Really?"

"He won't let himself be used again."

"Unless he thinks you're in some terrible danger. That might just draw him out. And those boys...they could be pawns, too, if you're at the center of it. All three of them in one swoop? I'd be able to do a lot more than just make a small fragment of the stone."

"Is that all you want? A stone?"

"I want much more. The stone's just the start."

She swallowed hard. His golden skin was a stark contrast to the cool, calculating eye and brown hair. Even that smile...his whole appearance made her squirm from top to toe, her heart beating hard against the inside of her ribcage. He leaned forward more, one hand bracing his weight against the interior wall, blocking her in.

"I want you to help me, Amelie. Do that, and I won't hurt a one of your friends. Nor anyone who isn't already viable for the stone. No death, no torment. Those souls are just waiting to be harnessed. Who are you to say how?"

"I'm the Soul Alchemist, dumb ass."

His eyes went wide when her hands planted firmly on his chest. The immediate reaction was such that he flew backwards, hitting the opposite side of the cabin. As he cursed and held onto his sore chest, Amelie ran. She shoved past the other passengers, through the narrow hallway. She ducked to the side at a wait station and slid the exterior door open. The napkins on the counter flew around and she didn't hesitate long enough to see if anyone was trying to stop her.

She jumped.

Tumbling through the snow, she finally came to a stop at the bottom of a small hill, turning quickly to see if she was being following. The train sped on and she watched with bated breath until it disappeared from sight. The moment it vanished, she sighed and collapsed on the snow bank, shivering and panting.

The treeline ahead was enough to provide shelter and she was sure she could find another small town to jump on a train. Only now, she had more than one person she was sure would be after her, if they weren't already.

Wishing she'd managed to grab the coat before she'd run, she wrapped her arms around her front and walked through the fresh snow, grateful it hadn't had time to stack up any higher than her lower calves. Her breath condensing before disappearing, she ignored the cold tingling in her toes and fingertips to focus on looking for trash and other materials she could use to make some kind of blanket or coat. Perhaps the trees would give her some better chances


	10. Three's Company

**A/N: So...is anyone else not liking the new anime? Feel like the VAs just aren't hitting their mark? Feel the need for Aaron? I do :-(****

* * *

**

Riza stayed over his bedside, wiping away a sweaty brow with a damp cloth, cooling his heated face. If he was hot because of a fever, or nightmares, she wasn't sure. But she knew waking up wouldn't offer any pleasantness. She expected his first concern would be Amelie. She wouldn't let herself lie to the man she'd entrusted so much to, and even the thought of an omission made her heart ache. But if he got in Amelie's way, she had no doubt things would end badly for them all. He would lose what he'd gained and could even put them in more jeopardy by making her an easier target. Stealth wasn't something the General was good at where Amelie had done it for long enough to know how to simply vanish. Riza had no doubt that the younger alchemist had already found some way to stay hidden even as she traveled right along with the crowds.

The General stirred, his brow furrowing. She put the cloth aside and stayed still, waiting to see if he would open his eyes. Slowly, those obsidian orbs found her and he blinked several times, adjusting to the light. She gave a gentle smile.

"Welcome back, sir."

"How long was I out?"

"Almost eighteen hours."

He nodded, "And Amelie? Is she okay?"

Riza hesitated. She thought she'd started her answer soon enough. But Roy noticed even the smallest pause and pinned her with tired eyes, "Major: is Amelie okay?"

"Yes. She is, sir."

"And where is she?"

"We don't know, sir."

He tried to sit up and she put her hand against his shoulder to keep him down. He groaned at the stiffness in his limbs, at the pain that still clung to his half-bruised body.

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"Shortly after she healed you, she left."

"Why did you let her leave?"

"Because her path is different from yours. She knows that. I think you do, too."

"Dammit," Roy hissed, trying again to sit up only to find Hawkeye's grip on his body absolute. They stared at each other for a long moment and she refused to remove her hand.

"She took a risk to heal you, General. Why do you want to undo what she's done?"

He looked away, "I turned my back on her. I can't do it again."

"You're not. You're not abandoning her. And she knows that. She wants you to be safe. Going after her would put you both in danger."

He finally stopped pushing against her restraining hand, plopping his head back down onto the thin pillow. Looking up into the ceiling, he sighed. Riza remained vigilant, watching his usual mask creep back into place as his mind worked over all the possibilities of getting around the conundrum at hand. Laying his forearm over his eyes, he scoffed.

"Some big brother I turned out to be."

"I don't think there's a bone in her body that hates you for what happened back then."

"Did she say where she was going?"

"No. But she plans to deactivate the transmutation circle under the country."

His forearm raised off his brow and his wide eyes stared at her, "What?"

"She said that diminishing five of the anchor points would render the circle useless."

"But to do that—"

"I don't believe she'll make a Philosopher's Stone. Her eyes don't seem to carry that much distance from those around her."

"So she's off then. To some corner or another of the country."

"She left a message for you, sir: she'll find you when she gets back to Central. Until then, she'll stay hidden. She'll stay safe."

A small, acidic laugh and he laid his forearm over his eyes again. Riza just sat at his side, watching his scathing self-anger boil deeper beyond the surface. Thankful that Amelie had the foresight or even just the inability to heal her brother entirely, she had some reassurance that the General wouldn't be crossing the country looking for the younger alchemist.

That didn't mean that Edward and Alphonse wouldn't, however.

* * *

Sitting in a quiet faux living room, Edward felt like the air was wrapping around him, choking him. His downcast eyes were spared the grim look on Winry's face. His brother sitting beside him only made things more awkward. He cleared his throat and she crossed her arms.

"You mind saying it again?" she asked.

He sighed, "We're going after Amelie. To make sure she doesn't do anything reckless."

"Why are you going?"

"I just told you," he met her eyes.

"No. Why are _you_ going?"

"It's my job."

"No one asked you to go!" she screamed at him, standing with her arms pressed against her sides and fists tight.

Both Ed and Al leaned back, looking at their childhood friend as she kept those heated eyes on the older brother. Alphonse noticed the lack of searing looks he was getting. This didn't concern him. He stood slowly, looking between them both.

"I'll be outside," he whispered.

Winry's stiff face softened and she blinked, "Al..."

"It's okay. I'll go have dinner with granny."

The younger Elric walked out of the room, closing the door securely behind him. The moment the door clicked, Ed shot his golden eyes back on Winry.

"Why'd you have to do that?"

"I wasn't yelling at him, Edward."

"That's not how he took it!"

"That's not why he left! He left because he knows I don't want you to go!"

"And why not?"

"It's not your responsibility. You've saved this country before."

"And you're saying I shouldn't do that same thing again?"

"I'm saying to let someone else do it."

"How can we trust someone we don't even know?"

"You just can't do everything!"

Ed's face went slack for a moment before it stiffened back up, eyes averted again to the floor. Winry sat across from him, weaving her hands while they laid unused in her lap. She curled them, intertwined them, then separated them again.

"I don't want you to be in dangerous situations. Isn't that enough?"

"I have to go."

"Why? I...I don't want to lose you."

His shoulders slumped and he exhaled deeply, "I know."

"At least let me come with you."

"No. I need to know you're safe. You got mixed up in this last time. I won't do that to you again."

"It's my choice, isn't it? And you might need repairs on your automail. Anything could happen. Her alchemy...can't she do this alone?"

"She can. But I don't know if I can trust that she'll do the right thing."

"Why don't you want me around?"

"What?" he asked disbelievingly.

"After...after the fight, you said you'd never make me worry again. I thought...I thought you wanted to be with me. But you don't, do you?" she looked down at her folded hands.

His heart dropped in his chest, his eyes focused solely on the girl—no, woman—across from him. She'd changed. She'd made obvious how she felt...about him. He'd thought she'd understood. But now...she couldn't even tell.

He lifted himself from the couch and moved around the coffee table, sitting next to her. She didn't even register the motion, only kept her gaze on her hands. He reached for her chin, making her eyes meet his. She stared blankly at him. His flesh hand was sweaty, his heart was beating loud in his ears. And against his ribcage. He could almost feel his pulse pounding in his neck.

He closed his eyes and kissed her.

It was awkward. She wasn't responding. Wasn't kissing him back. Pulling his lips away from hers, his gaze opened just long enough to see her shocked eyes searching for his. He looked away quickly, his gut doing flips enough to make him feel sick.

"Winry..."

She kissed him, cupping his face to look at her again while she pressed her lips to his. This time, he could feel the warmth, her taste. Apples and machine oil. Sweet and tough. He took her hands in his, grateful for the heat of them against his face. For a moment, he didn't care if Amelie destroyed souls. For a longer one, he debated not going after the alchemist.

Their lips pulled apart and she smiled at him, her eyes compassionate and full of gratitude. He gave a cocked little smile.

"Guess I'm no good with words, huh?"

She smiled back at him, "Nope."

"I do. Want to be with you."

"I know."

"I need to know you're safe. And I need to make sure Amelie's on our side."

"I know."

"If you come with me, you could get hurt."

"I don't care. I trust you."

He stayed silent for a moment. She trusted him. Enough to put her life in his hands. Enough to risk it all. She trusted he wouldn't let anything happen to her. A pedestal? She was putting him on a mountain. Aside from the crushing responsibility, he felt pride that he was good enough for her.

"Don't pack anything you don't need. We need to travel light."

"Let me get a coat."

"Bringing your wrenches?" he smiled; she left the couch and crossed the room and put her hand on the toolbox when he asked the question.

"You or Al can make me some if I need it."

"Are you sure you want to come?"

"I want to share this with you. Even if it is hard and dangerous. Guess I'm tired of not knowing what your life is like."

The phone on the side table rang and Ed moved to pick it up. He gave an apologetic smile to Winry before lifting the headset off the receiver.

"Hello?"

"_You're going after Amelie_?" Mustang's thick voice asked on the other end of the line.

Ed sighed, "Yeah."

"_Even if I ordered you not to_?"

"Right."

"_Then, since I know you won't listen...protect her for me_."

"What?"

"_Knowing you, you're going after her as much to keep her in line as to keep her safe. Or did I misjudge your ambition_?"

"I think I'll say yes just to piss you off."

There was a stifled chuckle, the General's trademark smirk audible to Ed's knowing mind, "_Do you have any idea where she went_?"

"Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you. You're the one she's trying to keep safe."

"_I would say be careful, but I know I'll be getting a collateral damage report anyway_"

"I'm not—"

"_Good luck, pipsqueak_."

The click on the other end of the line only made Edward's automail grip on the headset tighter and he slammed it down before it cracked from the pressure. Seething for a moment, he ran through all of the names he could've called that bastard before forcing a smile, or at least not a frown, back onto his face to look at Winry.

"This is what my life is like," he said.

She giggled, "Your face is red."

His stiff, agitated line of a body crossed the room, "Yeah. Dealing with Mustang does that."

"At least you know he's looking after you."

Ed scoffed, "He's looking after himself. Like always."

"You don't think he's the least bit worried about his sister?"

"I don't know. Think he's more worried he'll be charged with aiding and embedding if she's caught."

"Then I guess we'd better make sure she doesn't get caught."

He nodded before looking to the door, "Al won't want you to come, either."

Winry gave a smile, "Oh, we can fix that!"

* * *

A ginormous goose-egg on his forehead, Ed walked into the dining hall and saw Al's eyes go wide. His shoulders stiff and his head killing him, it wasn't hard for Ed to muster up all the begrudging displeasure he could.

"She's coming with us."

Al nodded in agreement quickly, keeping a keen eye on Winry. And her hands that were currently void of any wrench.

* * *

Looking at the sun while it rose above the treeline, Amelie smiled. The night, cold as it was, hadn't been unbearable. Able to build a simple shelter and start a fire, the woods had proved thick enough to hide her away from the view of the passing trains. Even better, fresh snow had covered her tracks. She had found pine cones to roast. Some tree bark had served well enough to make a blanket.

All in all, the night had passed without a problem. Although she heard the lonely whirl of the train as it passed, there was nothing else but the forest around her. And that had some comforting value in it. She's spent so long away from civilization that being around it was more uncomfortable than not. Given trees or tracks, she'd choose trees.

The first bit of sunlight hit her in the face and she smiled. Standing, she looked to the hand-built campsite. Convenient as it had been, she had to hide it. Being followed wasn't what she wanted.

Pressing her hand to the ground, she watched the sticks and poles, fire and embers sink into the ground, absorbed.

Grateful she could finally tell which way east was, she traveled on. Some part of her wanted to call Roy up and give him some warning. The other worried it would be expected of her. And if the man named Roderick was actually responsible for owning the hybrid chimera, her blood ran chilled to think of how many more there might be. Or how he had obtained them in the first place. Either way, there was no surety that his was an idle threat. Her body had quaked when he got too close. Like she was being drawn to the Gate.

The small town of Smyrna visible beyond the dip in the landscape, she hastened her steps. Remaining unnoticed in town wasn't something she considered hard. Even passing military police, smiling to them, was easy. There were very few pictures of her circulated and none of them recent. And unless Roy had sent word to other posts regarding her whereabouts, she doubted any of the recruits kept tabs on cases as old as hers. Then, there were times she would feel like someone was watching her, following her, and she would duck into a crowd without even thinking of how many steps she'd need to take to disappear completely. It was habit, thick and tried.

Seeing an empty phone booth outside a small inn, she hesitated. Finding the warmth of the inn more inviting, she headed in and ordered a room for the day. It would be easier to travel at night. To stay hidden in the dark.

* * *

Ed looked at the circle again. He couldn't disprove Amelie's guess that the dormant circle could be deactivated by erasing only five anchors. In fact, had he looked at it, he would have said seven and caused himself more work. But he supposed that was the difference between his toll through the Gate and hers.

"After all of that, Father just wanted to die?" Winry asked.

Al nodded, "Dragging...God...down into himself, he just wanted to kill it. To commit suicide."

"Why? It doesn't make any sense."

"No. It doesn't. But then again, maybe that's the more powerful option. Envy killed himself rather than give any of us the satisfaction. And if just one of us had the foresight about it, committing suicide would have saved this country a lot of grief," Ed sighed, "So who knows. Maybe death is more powerful."

"But Father could have just done what Pride did. Drag some unwilling alchemist to the Gate," Al countered.

"But it would've been harder for them to do what they did. It would have hurt them. Proud as they were, they didn't seem self-sacrificing if they could help it."

"And what do you think Amelie's going to do now with all that energy that hasn't been used up?" Winry asked, looking between the two brothers.

Ed sighed, not meeting the gaze, "Even if she denies it, I think she'll try to make a stone—several small ones, if she can."

"She wouldn't," Al said, the beginning of anger lacing his voice.

"You don't know that. All we know is what she's told us. What if she really did commit murder and is just using her brother's guilt to get out of it?"

"I know she wouldn't do that. She wouldn't manipulate the General like that. Or us."

"I don't know. Mustang's good at getting people to do what he wants. Trait might run in the family."

"You're acting like you've already decided she's guilty."

"I'm being logical. Why are you so eager to defend her? You just met her."

"I can't put my finger on it but something's different about her. I can tell."

Ed's brow shot up and he almost smiled, "Al..."

The younger brother straightened, "What?" he asked in exasperation.

"You like her, don't you?" Ed's eyes narrowed and his grin widened.

Al glared at him, "That's not—"

Ed's face turned into an amused grimace, "She's Mustang's _sister_, Al!"

"I don't like her like that!" the younger brother protested.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Ed laughed, doubling over to see his boots and the floorboards, "Oh, that is too good!"

"Ed..." Winry sighed.

"That's not funny!" Al's face remained serious.

"But she's his sister!"

"Drop it! That's not what I meant and you know it! I just meant that there's something about her that feels familiar. Don't you wonder why her remnant alchemy affects me differently than you? There's something about her and you can't deny that."

Wiping away a laughing tear, Ed tried to keep a straight face, "There're some really cruel jokes about 'lighting fires' I could use but I don't want to go there."

Giving an exasperated exhale and clenching his hands down at his sides, Al walked out of the private cabin to the main hall on the train.

Ed stood, "Al..." he whined, hoping to get his younger brother's button un-pushed with the pleading tone that had always worked in the past. When the door slammed shut in his face, he plopped back down onto the bench. Sighing heavily, he looked to Winry.

"I think I pissed him off."

"Yeah. I think you did."

"It's just...she's Mustang's _sister_! That's weird however you want to slice it," he tried not to laugh.

"Did you ever stop to think how he might feel about us?"

The small chuckle died out and he looked at her, brow furrowed, "He doesn't know..."

She gave a sympathetic smile, "Of course he does. He's more perceptive than you are. Even if you haven't told him...how do you think that makes him feel? He might think he's the third wheel."

"But nothing's changed. Not with...we're still the same three kids we were. Just...older."

"Have you made sure he knows that? And even if he does like Amelie, who are you to say it's weird? After all, his childhood friend is dating his brother."

Ed nodded, his shoulders going slack in defeat, "Yeah...I guess you're right. Dammit, now I have to apologize and drag him back here."

Just as he started to get up, Winry caught his arm and gently kept him from fully standing. He looked down at her with a puzzled face. She smiled again at him.

"He's not a little kid anymore, Ed. Let him be. He'll walk back when he wants to."

Ed shrugged, "Yeah, but I'm still the big brother. I'll be back."

Her smile only widened and she let go of his arm, "I'll be in the dining car."

They both walked out and parted ways, Ed following in what he was sure would be the footsteps of his little brother. He walked along, eyes instinctively looking for a giant suit of armor rather than his golden-haired shadow. Even after a year, he still found himself expecting to wake up to a dream and find his brother back in that hollow shell of a body.

But each morning he woke up and Al was already eating breakfast in the kitchen, he smiled. Al had stopped asking why after a month of it.

They'd been lucky, in some ways, to be where they were when Al's body had been restored. Ill-nourished for all that time, it had been painfully thin and gaunt. Weak, without muscle tone, his younger brother had been helpless. Even to this day, Ed was grateful that Mustang had rushed forward to place his military coat around his brother's naked body. His own legs had been rooted to the ground for the shock of actually seeing their dream come to fruition. Knowing they'd just accomplished something that shouldn't have happened, he'd froze. Izumi and Mustang were the ones to first tend to Al. And even with bloody hands, the General had carried his brother. Izumi had dragged him along behind.

Lucky, because they were right under some of the best hospitals in the country. Lucky, because Roy was already considered a hero. Lucky, because Olivia and her brother were nearby to take command while they retreated and brought Al to safety.

He wondered if he'd ever said thank you to his sensei and his commanding officer for being the ones to shelter Al while he'd been dumbstruck.

Stumbling upon the game car, the idle chit chat that accompanied poker and chess wasn't enough to hide his brother's golden hair. He prepared himself for the worst and crossed the lush car. It was trimmed in fine wood, golden brass, and had all the air of a southern saloon. But it felt cold to see Al's face so gloomy, eyes staring into the snow-filled world outside.

A waiter walked by and asked what Ed might like to drink. Taking a simple pleasure in the fact that he looked tall enough to drink, he declined and moved on, sitting beside his brother a moment later. Al was trying his damnedest to ignore him. But their reflected eyes in the window met and Ed offered a small smile.

"Hey. Anything interesting?"

Al reverted his eyes back onto the scenery, "No."

"I'm sorry, Al."

The younger brother sighed, "I didn't mean to get upset, either. I just...she's different."

"Different is definitely a word to describe her."

Eyes still watching the frozen trees pass outside the windows, Al shrugged, "I've just been thinking about it and...welll...what if I came back wrong?"

Ed's heart dropped to the very pit of his gut and his body broke out into a cold sweat. He stared at the back of his brother's head, mouth hanging open and no words able to form.

"Ever since I got my body back, I've been cold. I've been alive...but I don't feel like I'm living. What if I came back wrong? If something was missing after all those years at the Gate?"

"Al..."

"It feels like I'm dreaming this life, Brother."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I don't think I realized it until she shook my hand. Even the alchemy that was leftover made me feel alive. I felt like she was that part of me that was missing. I never realized it until now."

"You're still Al, though. You're still my little brother."

"I know who I am. But I don't feel like myself. It's...hard to explain. And if that means I want her to be the good guy, just so I can figure out what her touch means in all of this, then so be it. But even if she was the bad guy, I don't know if I could blame her for it. She's smart. She saw more of the Truth than you and I combined. She might be able to tell me what's different about me."

Ed looked at the hightop table's surface. Veneered wood, rich and fancy. Not at all what they were used to.

"I didn't know, Al."

"I know. And I know you didn't mean anything by it."

"I just don't want you to get hurt by trusting her too much. If she does turn out to be against us, I don't want her to use you to make something happen."

"Just, please don't judge her. If we see her again, she'll run if she thinks we're not trying to help."

"I dunno. Using Mustang as leverage against her seems to work. He's her weakness. I guess siblings have that issue. It's the same for you and me. So maybe we should just keep mentioning Mustang. See if it helps loosen her tongue a bit more about what she plans to do to destroy the circle."

"That's if we can find her."

"Well, if I were her, I would want to start with the oldest pinpoint. Set free the souls that have been trapped the longest. It seems like as good a starting point as any."

"You don't think she'll head to Briggs, do you? General Armstrong won't be so easy to avoid after everything that's happened. If she heads east, we might have an easier time; I don't think anyone there despises Mustang as much as the General does."

"We'll see. Waiting might be our best option. I've narrowed it down to seven pinpoints that she might visit. Is she's doing five of them, we've got a decent chance of running into her if we stay put for a while."

Al smirked and Ed caught it. He eyed his younger brother, "What?"

"Waiting has never been your strong point."

"I can be patient if I have to!"

Al's smile was genuine and the older Elric at least found some comfort in that. He sighed, looking back at his automail fist.

"About Winry and I..."

"Don't worry about it, Brother. I kinda knew all along."

"Damn you for being so perceptive. I just don't want you to think that I don't want you around anymore."

"You love her. And you're happy. That's what matters."

Ed nudged the younger alchemist, "Well, if all this works out, and Amelie is on our team, you can ask her out."

Al's face turned beet red and he rolled his eyes.

Ed smiled, "Knew you liked her for more than alchemy."

* * *

Amelie rolled over to see the golden hues of sunset stretching like flames across the white landscape. She hadn't been able to really sleep a wink. Her body was sore and her mind kept racing through the man who'd cornered her on the train. Whatever his motive, he wanted a Philosopher's stone. And he wanted it bad enough to start a fight with a skilled pyromaniac just to keep her in line. Was Roy's capture, his targeting, just a means to an end? Or was there even more...more than she could see or could anticipate.

She had no doubt that Roy, were he not focused on her, never would have been slowed down. But he was crazy enough to let himself be pummeled for the chance of finding her. Considering how long it had been since they'd seen each other, she wasn't sure what to make of his sudden concern.

She's killed men and he had a duty to uphold. Jeopardizing his livelihood, his life, was more guilt she didn't need.

Sitting up in bed, she hissed a bit at the frayed nerves that had protested her injuries. Her bare feet hit the wooden floor, the cold painful against soft skin. Arms crossed over her chest, she looked out the window to see the town as it wound down for the night. She could slip away, leave, and no one would be ever the wiser. If only she knew where she was...

She would have to ask how to get to Riviere. If she'd judged everything correctly, the train ride there wouldn't take a terribly long time. Even transmuting something from the stored energy would be quick. But now, if she was being followed by some odd-eyed freak, she would have to be even more careful than before.

There was a knock on her door. Startled, she jumped and gasped before running barefoot to the door.

"Hello?"

"Dinner's ready in the dining room, Miss!" came the cheery voice.

She sighed and smiled at her own reaction, "Thank you."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she fastened her shoes back on. She touched the heavy blanket behind her and transmuted a thick coat, still warm from her sleeping in it. Trudging out of the room, she found her way downstairs to the dining area. It was filled with travelers, a hot fireplace, and the savory aromas of home-cooked food. For all the traveling, her stomach had been ignored. Now, the smell of food so close, it growled and she laid her hand over it for the ferocity. Giving in, she picked up a plate and stood in the line for the buffet.

With small little segments of food neatly partitioned on the plate, she sat at the far end of a large table, away from most of the other occupants.

"Mommy, she's bleeding," a child's voice whispered.

While the mother hushed her son, Amelie wiped absently at the blood that had dripped onto the table. Her wounds hadn't healed so well as she thought and she gently touched a sore spot on her head. She couldn't remember hitting it, nor could she remember when it might have happened, but she had no doubt it was just one of the many wounds she'd yet taken stock of.

The boy was still mesmerized by her and she met his openly curious gaze. He waved and she smiled. The mother gave her an apologetic look and turned her son's attention back to the food in front of him. Thinking his curiosity satiated, Amelie lifted a forkfull of potatoes to her mouth. She went to bite down when the gentle tug on her sleeve made some of the food slip from the fork and land back on the plate. She looked to the source of the imbalance and her smiled came back.

"Are you hurt?" the boy asked.

"Not really," she lied.

"Why doesn't your mommy kiss it better?"

"Because she's not here."

"Oh. Are you going to see her?"

Her shoulders fell ever so slightly, "No. No, I'm not."

"Why not?"

"There are some things I can't do."

His mother rushed back over, taking him into her arms, "Sorry."

"Its fine."

She proceeded to gently reprimand him for leaving his seat unexcused. But the boy seemed more interested in waving goodbye to Amelie than anything else. She gave a little wave back before turning her eyes back to her food.


	11. Childhood Prank Flashback

**A/N: This is a piece within a piece - a rather long flashback, if you will. It gets its own chapter because...it just does! Takes place when Roy was 13. ****

* * *

**

Roy looked around the room and waited. He would bide his time. The calculations had to be perfect. The aim had to be just so. The slightest misjudgment would cause too much headache to be undone. He would have to be quick if he wanted to get out alive. Otherwise, he was sure he would be swallowed whole and destroyed. Looking to his trusted partner, he nodded. Maes Hughes gave a little smile, just as aware as Roy was how much danger they were in.

Screaming at the top of their lungs, they charged into the room with water balloons at the ready in a bucket. The five girls scattered, pelted in turn with their liquid bombs. Roy made doubly sure to hit Amelie first. The three-year old seemed more in shock than anything else. Rebecca and Tanya jumped onto the bed, higher and just as old as Roy and Maes and unwilling to take the assault siting down. They grabbed spray bottles of perfume and aimed. Both boys stopped dead and quickly emptied the chilled water in the bucket onto the remaining girls as a last-ditch attempt to give them the upper hand.

The bed sheets getting most of the water, Roy and Maes turned tail and ran from the room. While the girls screeched and screamed for Chris Mustang to intervene, they found the back door to the yard and continued running. Looking up at the bedroom window, they saw Vanessa lean back with a bottle of something in her hand. She chucked it at them, narrowly missing. It exploded on the grass, the overwhelming smell of violets and roses threatening to taint them.

Stick his tongue out, Roy gave an urging tug on Maes' sleeve to get him running again.

"Roy Mustang! You get back here!" Rebecca yelled out from the open window.

Ignoring the call, he and Maes ran towards the shrubs that lined the property. They would be safer if they took refuge at Maes' house until the war zone was almost forgotten. They were about to duck under the branches when the younger boy stopped. Roy paused, unsure why his best friend wasn't following.

"She's following us again!" Maes complained.

Roy turned to look and saw his white-haired half-sister running clumsily after them, "Let's ditch her! Come on."

They ducked under the shrubs, laughing at the easy escape. The awkward three-year old fell once, never halting to cry. But Roy and Maes ran on, laughing.

* * *

There was one thing Maes knew better than life, and that was the look his mother was currently giving him. Hanging up the phone pointedly and keeping the boys pinned with a glare, Mrs. Elaine Hughes beckoned them closer with a raised eyebrow.

"You two have some explaining to do."

Hands folded behind their back, Maes and Roy trudged forward. Maes tried to smile, only to be cut off by his mother clearing her throat.

"What made you two think you could do that? Those girls didn't need to be treated that way. I've raised you better, Maes."

"Sorry," her son replied quietly.

She gave an exasperated sigh, "Ever since you two started hanging out, it's been nonstop trouble! Mrs. Mustang and I thought it would be good for you two, but I'm starting to think maybe we were wrong. It's been one mess after another! Water balloons this week; frogs in the classroom last week; a hoax fire alarm the week before that! Maybe you both need to spend more time with your sisters! Roy, you should go home. Maes, you're grounded for a week."

Maes opened his mouth to protest, "But we—"

"Two weeks!" his mother out-voiced him. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Maes gave a sad look to Roy, knowing his punishment would no doubt be worse. Chris Mustang was a lot of things, but merciful was not one of them.

"Roy, head on home. Maes will be over in an hour to help you clean up the mess you made."

Roy nodded his head, "Yes, ma'am."

Sullen petulance engraved on his face, Roy trod the well worn path that linked the back yards of neighboring houses. Getting closer to home, he could hear the angry shouts and was somewhat jealous of Maes being grounded. Grounded meant they wouldn't be able to see each other. And it also meant housework. But Roy was sure his own punishment would be cruel and unusual. Such was the penchant of his foster mother.

Chris was standing in the doorway, waiting with a smirk. He looked down at his feet. He didn't like that look. It meant she'd already devised a punishment for him.

"Was it worth it?" she asked kindly.

He paused at the stoop, "No."

"Oh, come on, hearing them scream like that was funny," she put her hand on his shoulder.

He looked up at her. She was smiling and he found it reflected on his own face, "Well..."

"See? Admitting it was worth it is half the battle," she led him into the house and he couldn't help but continue smiling. Then he realized she was leading him directly to the room he'd just drowned. He couldn't alter course for the hand on his shoulder.

"Now, the rest of the battle is about seeing just what you did to them."

She opened the door and, despite the broken shards of balloons and puddles of water, the girls, his foster-sisters, were smiling. He felt his heart sink down into his boots.

"Girls, Roy-boy here is willing to let you do his hair. And his makeup. And, he's even volunteered to do it all this week."

Roy shot a horrified look up at the woman, "No...no..."

She smiled down at him, "It'll be good for you, Roy. You might learn to respect just how much work goes into a teenaged girl's routine. And I'm sure you'll realize just how much it can be worth it when you go to school like that this week."

Taking her hand from his shoulder, Mrs. Mustang walked out and left him to his fate.

* * *

Maes couldn't help but laugh aloud. And Roy, fists clenched at his side, had the overwhelming urge to knock that smile and those glasses right off his best friend's face. Done up with miniature pigtails all over his head, blue eyeshadow and ruby-red lips, Roy Mustang looked anything but intimidating. The pink on his cheeks was only half from blush; the rest was pure fury.

"Stop laughing!"

Maes doubled over, clutching at his gut. They stood toe to toe in the girls' room. The culprits of Roy's makeover had retired to the study for their evening homework. Roy and Maes were left to clean the mess up.

"You look like a doll!"

"I said shut up!"

"Oh, I really hope they got a picture of this!"

"Maes! Stop it!"

His friend actually fell to his rear and continued laughing, unconcerned that he was sitting in a sopping spot of carpet. Roy just stood there, an irritated line of a human being. He only averted his angry eyes when a set of footsteps came running towards them.

"Roy, have you—"

"Go away!" Roy screamed at his sister, Vanessa.

Unperturbed by the voice, she rolled her eyes at him, "Seriously: have you seen Amelie? We went to bring her into the study...and she's nowhere in the house."

Maes stopped laughing. Roy's body went slack and he darted past Vanessa. Maes scrambled to his feet and followed, trailing after Roy as the boy bolted down the stairs.

"You're not going out like that, are you?" he asked.

"She went to follow us, didn't she?"

Maes hesitated, his brain catching up with Roy's. He sped up his steps, catching up to the older trickster. Pigtails and all, Roy dashed out into the backyard and looked around. The telltale white hair was nowhere to be found. He and Maes had let her tag along once or twice when they were charged with babysitting, but she'd never gone out on her own. Not to mention, she was only three. Finding a well-worn path to Maes house might have been easy if she was following them two steps behind, but by herself...

"Amelie!" Roy called out.

Maes echoed him, heading for the shrubs they'd ducked under. Roy followed. The next yard held no promise and they ran around the house for a long moment before heading towards the back of the property that faced the river. Their path had always led them along its banks.

"Ammy!" Roy cupped his hands around his mouth, megaphoning his voice.

"You think she made it to my house?" Maes asked hopefully.

"Your mom would call, wouldn't she?"

Maes deflated, "Yeah. You don't think she went in the water, do you?"

Roy's heart sank and a million possibilities ran through his mind. A small child, washed to the banks downstream. There would be no living with the guilt. No way to say it wasn't his fault. His whole life would be ruined if she were gone.

"Ammy!" he yelled again, renewed frenzy in his voice.

To any passerby on the other side of the river, a dolled-up, black-haired, teen-aged boy screaming a seemingly meaningless word was nowhere near to the worried and guilty 13-year old who'd ditched his last true family in favor of a clean getaway. His heart was beating thick in his throat when he crossed the property line into the next yard. And the one after that, still crying out for Amelie. The air was starting to chill and the sky was getting bronzed. When they got to Maes' back yard with still no sight of his sister, Roy collapsed.

"I lost her."

"She's got to be around here somewhere. I mean, she's only three. How far could she go?"

"You don't think someone took her, do you?" Roy asked, voice laced with panic.

"Who'd want her? She's not even talking yet which if you ask me—"

"Shut up, Maes! She's missing!"

Maes sighed and looked around, "What if she kept going? Just kept following the river?"

Roy stood, his feet pushing him to the riverside again. Walking, closer to running, along the steep bank, he couldn't push the image of a small body being washed ashore out of his head. That white hair muddied and tangled.

Two houses down, he felt his heart leap into his throat. Her white hair stood out like nothing else could at twilight. He ran, Maes following him. His baby sister was curled up, crying at the water's edge. She'd gotten red clay mushed all in her clothes and hair, the steep bank the culprit. Roy could see where she'd fallen. Her hands were covered in the thick grime from trying to climb out. He skid down the bank, an easy task for his age, and fell to his knees next to her.

She looked at him, eyes puffing out from the tears, and desperately grabbed at him, clutching his clothes and pulling him close. He wrapped his arms around her and quickly lifted her. Covered in makeup, hair products, clay and tears, he let Maes help him back up the bank before turning back to the house.

Roy could feel her shivering. Her tears and sobs were subsiding with each step he took. And through it all, she kept her tiny fist wrapped around a clump of his shirt. Never a word, never anything more than grateful security when she fell asleep in his arms.

* * *

Having caught a cold from the exposure, his baby sister was stuck in bed for a few days. Roy never left her side and their foster mother didn't force him to endure another makeup session. Refusing to leave even to go to school, the boy had fallen asleep again on the floor of Amelie's room. And when Chris Mustang came in the next morning to serve him breakfast, she smiled and left well enough alone.

Amelie had crawled down from her bed to sleep with her brother on the floor, dragging her blanket down with her to cover them both.


	12. Warmth

_The land was barren, a wasteland, something that should have been luscious and green. But it had died, scars and scorches zigzagging across umber soil. The skeletons of trees loomed far off. Wind tore at his red coat and made the hood of it slap against his cheek. _

_"Brother...where are we?"_

_Ed only shook his head, "I don't know."_

_"What happened? This was supposed to be Riviere," Winry questioned. _

_"They're all just gone. It's all vanished."_

_Ed couldn't disagree with his brother's statement, awed and fearful in its accuracy. His golden eyes only scanned the horizon to search for any life that could have survived. His gaze noticed a figure by one of the gnarled trees, white against a sepia sky. White hair, white clothes, white everything. Long hair remained motionless even as his own was ripped around by the wind. _

_She looked at him, black eyes piercing the white facade. His brow furrowed, "Amelie?"_

_No answer. Her eyes only looked tiredly apathetic. Her hand raised, palm up, as if she was trying to take his hand. Both Winry and his brother stayed behind him, unsure. _

_"Did you do this?" he asked. _

_Her shoulders slumped. _

_Al and Winry screamed. Ed spun around to see the very ground they'd been standing on crumble, fall away. Both their eyes went wide, both fell quicker than reflexes could account for. Both managed to grab the edge of the cliff that had quickly shown their true height above an abyss below. _

_Who was he supposed to help?_

_Al was still physically weaker than most and Winry didn't have the arms to haul herself over the ledge. He was frozen in place; two pairs of eyes, gold and blue, looked to him to help. The loose dirt wasn't giving them any purchase as they slid farther towards death. Still, he couldn't move. His voice wouldn't say anything. _

_He ran, skidding down onto his belly to reach for one as they both fell. Automail grasped tightly the hand he'd reached for and he watched the second pair of eyes flash through every conceivable emotion before they fell from sight. Gratitude, betrayal, fear and solace. Even as they fell, his voice never issued from his throat. _

_Those eyes fell away into darkness._

* * *

Ed's head jolted from the window, his breath quick and shallow and his soundless gasp echoing around the small room. His body felt like it were made of lead, his heart too thick and paralyzed to beat fast enough compared to his rapid breaths. Blinking his eyes as they adjusted to the night around him, he felt a familiar warmth on his lap and looked down to see Winry; she had her head on his thighs, her hand clasping one of his knees, and her legs curled to her chest under his red coat. Those blue eyes slept on, closed and peaceful. On the bench across from him lay Al, head pillowed on his bent arm and his own coat draped over his torso. His legs stuck out from under one end and his arms from the other. Ed had stayed sitting up, head leaning against the pane of the window to keep him level.

Even now, he couldn't believe what he'd seen. The fear that drove his warmth away, that pain in the back of his throat, as if the scream he'd been unable to usher had actually been tearing at soft flesh to be released. Swallowing hard, pushing it down to his belly, he exhaled shakily and leaned back against the bench while draping his cool, metal arm over his eyes to block out the infinite black beyond.

The window pane rattled a bit, the wind outside hitting the train car sideways. He let his arm drop to look at the sky outside, black pierced with starlight.

He didn't want to choose who lived and died. He didn't want that responsibility. His gaze looked back on Winry as she slept on, oblivious to his gut-consuming pain. He ran flesh fingers through her long blonde locks, grateful she'd taken them out of the ponytail. She was so doubtful of what he felt. And it was his damn fault. He never said anything to her, never acted on the deep-seated feelings he felt. It was his fault she would never know.

Leaning against the window again, his hand absentmindedly continued to sift through silk, his gold eyes seeing the very first rays of sunlight and the outline of Riviere.

* * *

Just stepping foot on the very ground which had been soaked in blood almost 400 years ago, Amelie felt her head spin. She braced herself against a brick wall for a moment, catching her breath. It was almost overwhelming. The unactivated power, the souls begging for release from their prison. She would be doing them a favor to set them free after all this time. It would also be the most potent transmutation. A Philosopher's stone, likely as it was, wasn't the container she wanted for the power she felt clawing under her feet. And if she was being targeted to make one, she'd be damned to give anyone the pleasure.

Pushing off the wall, she continued on. Perhaps she could find enough worthy causes to use that energy on if she only walked a bit. Got to know the peaceful city. A city built very much like a maze. So much so, that even locals who'd lived their entire lives here still hadn't explored all the nooks and crannies and alleyways.

Her eyes found a hospital cross down the street...or at least it appeared to be down the street. Taking a turn she thought would lead to the main entrance, she found herself instead at a dead end. Huffing, she turned back around and started walking again. Her head constantly popped up over the walls and buildings to keep sight of the hospital cross down the way. So focused as she was, she missed the curb and fell forward. Her hands braced her against the rough pavement. She felt the small pebbles break through her skin and when she pulled them back, a thin layer of red and bloody flesh was at each palm.

A hand wrapped around her upper arm and she felt a gentle pull upwards. Getting a half-embarrassed smile on her face, she looked up to see blonde hair and golden eyes. Her smile fell and she looked past the man to see his brother and a young lady she didn't recall except for the hospital room.

"Talk about lucky guesses," Al's smile waned a bit as Ed kept his automail grip on her upper arm.

"So, decide to start with the oldest point first, huh?" the older brother asked.

"It was a theory."

"And what exactly are you planning to do?"

"You don't need to be involved."

"We are involved. And not just by you. So let us help," Al's voice was calm and gentle.

"There's nothing to help with. And I'm not making a stone, if that's what you're worried about."

"Doesn't hurt to be sure," Ed's smile was forced.

He let go of her upper arm and she stepped away, pressing her hands together before activating a rebuilding transmutation on her sheared palms. She inspected them before she started walking again. Al caught up to her and walked alongside.

"So, where are you off to?" he asked.

"The hospital."

"Why?" Ed piped up from behind.

"I want to see if there's a good cause there."

"A good cause?"

"Using the lives stored in the earth to heal those who've been hurt. It's simple Xingese alchestry, but on such a large scale it would deplete the energy. Without any moral complications," she added pointedly, looking over her shoulder at Ed.

"Then its something we should at least learn. Al and I aren't as good as you anyways," Ed countered, still digging his proverbial heels into the dirt at her running inclination that they should leave.

She didn't say anything, only continued on to weave into and out of the broken and twisted alleys before finally coming to the entrance of the hospital.

* * *

_Maes was sure he'd seen what he'd seen. True, he'd been in and out of an alchemy-induced coma for the past week, but he didn't doubt himself that much. That white hair was obvious to anyone who was looking for it. And ever since Amelie had jumped from his hospital room, he'd had all four eyes keen and aware of everything. _

_She didn't try to hide herself. Only stood, half veiled, behind the trunk of an old oak. She wasn't even staring at him. Just looking upwards. He followed her gaze and found a mirthful little smirk creep onto his face. Roy's office. _

_His head shaking, he walked over to her. She noticed him, he watched her head and eyes snap to attention at his direct approach. But she didn't run. Hands in her pockets, she stood her ground. His heart raced to think it was because he was so outmatched that she didn't back away or retreat. In a single touch, she could kill him and he'd have no moment to pull a knife and defend himself._

_"You're rather brave, coming onto military soil to see your brother."_

_Her eyes bore into his, "I know how to stay hidden."_

_"I'll bet."_

_"What do you want?"_

_"To say thanks."_

_Her eyes widened, "What?"_

_"For undoing whatever it was you did in the first place. Thanks."_

_"You're welcome."_

_"I take it you're not planning on hanging around."_

_"I was hoping he'd come with me."_

_"He won't."_

_"He loves power that much, does he?"_

_Maes almost laughed, "I doubt that's it at all."_

_She looked at him, tired face, "Then why? Why would he choose the military over me?"_

_"Because he wants to change this country. And make sure young ladies like you aren't targeted by the military in the first place."_

_Her eyes turned inward, searching for answers he'd made her look to. He looked back up at the window she'd been peering at. Sure enough, the unmistakable black hair of Roy Mustang was barely visible. Sighing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out stray bills and unclasped his pin from his lapel. Still keeping his distance, he outstretched his hand and offered them to her._

_She looked at them, confused, "What..."_

_"Money. And a rank pin. It'll at least get you past border security without too much trouble."_

_"You're...why?"_

_"Because I know you can't stay here. And I know Roy can't leave. He has a goal to change this country. And when that man sets his mind to something...but if you're here, it won't happen. And you know that, same as me. So, you need to get gone. Use my name as weight if you have to. " _

_"So I should turn away from him? Leave him to fight his way through this hell of a government alone?"_

_"You need to stay safe. Come back when he's done his job. Then...who knows? Maybe it'll be like you two never separated in the first place."_

_She scoffed, "You're an optimist, aren't you?"_

_"I know Roy. And I've got to say, he's not one to back down."_

* * *

Trying to stand straight was becoming an issue. As much as he loathed to admit it, he should have taken Hawkeye's advice and stayed home another day. His shoulder, even without the gaping hole in it, wasn't entirely healed and most of his body was fairly bruised and bothered him every step. Stairs were hard, considering he'd pulled almost every muscle in his left leg. No broken bones, but it still hurt worse than he'd imagined it would.

Standing straight in a hospital room, hand rigid against his forehead, he ignored the smirk of Olivia Armstrong. Having heard her brother had been hospitalized, she'd diverted her ride back to the north to find him in his hospital. Being the second-highest ranking officer in the military, she traveled more than stayed at Briggs. The southern border looking fine, she'd come back through Central only to pause at her brother's bedside.

Mustang hid a smirk at how the younger Armstrong almost cowered in her presence. Her forefinger tapping impatiently on the pommel of her sword, her blue eyes bore a hole into the Strong-Armed Alchemist's usual demeanor.

"You were hospitalized for this?" she asked, "I thought you were on some sort of death bed."

"Sister, dearest—"

"YOU WILL ADDRESS ME AS GENERAL," her voice boomed and Alex nodded and snapped his hand to his forehead.

"Yes, Ma'am."

She turned her back on her brother and looked instead to Roy. His hand slid down from his forehead and he gave a small, lopsided smile, "General."

Her eyes narrowed on him, "Care to explain why my pathetic brother is in here?"

"The situation was rather...grave. His recovery is thanks to a medical alchemist," Roy admitted. It would be easier to omit the truth than to lie altogether and downplay the event in its entirety.

Olivia's finger resumed its tapping and she stared at him, "What caused the commotion in the first place?"

"We suspect it was a random targeting. The culprit hasn't present himself again."

She smirked, "You're going to have to do better than that, Mustang. Weak as my brother is, I know no one who can put him in the hospital except for myself. And I don't like my territory encroached upon."

"When we find them, I'll be sure you get first crack at them."

"Who did the healing?"

And Alex, his memory too good for Mustang's, spoke up, "A beautiful young lady, white hair and onyx eyes! Worthy of a namesake such as ours, dear sister."

Even as she flinched at the use of her relationship and not her title, Mustang clenched his teeth. Olivia continued to eye him, passing those blue orbs up and down his body. He cursed at his hidden wounds. Her gaze was strong enough, he was sure she would see every bruise, every blister, every flinch.

She only gave a short, sharp exhale and passed by to pause by the doorway, "The next time I hear some news of someone strong enough to beat Alex, I want it to be from you, Mustang. You will keep me informed."

He nodded, "Of course."

The door slammed shut before he got the chance to give a passing acknowledgment to Miles, her right hand man. The half-Ishbalan had stood vigilant outside the doorway, just waiting for her to exit. No doubt he'd seen enough of her threat carried out to no longer be set aside by them. Just another part of the daily routine for him, Mustang supposed.

His body relaxed and his shoulders slumped ever so slightly. He'd had no time to warn the hulking man not to mention Amelie. And by the way Olivia had eyed him...

Perhaps he was just paranoid. And it was likely her seething discontent of her younger brother and his health that had made her seethe. Whatever the reason, Mustang would have to be sure to keep her somewhat informed of a fake manhunt. He couldn't exactly say the creature'd been killed by his little sister while he'd been ground to a bloody pulp (although he had a sneaking suspicion she would be delighted to hear about his beating).

The larger man stood and looked down at Mustang, his thick moustache hiding his moving mouth, "Is something wrong, sir?"

Mustang tried to straighten again and found his teeth clenched in the process, "No. It's nothing."

That knowing gaze fell on him and Mustang only stuck his hands in his overcoat pockets, giving another little shrug, "I hear they're releasing you tomorrow morning."

"Yes. About time, too! I wish I had been around sooner to provide some help in the manhunt."

Mustang sighed, "There isn't one. So don't think you have to prove anything."

"But—sir,"

"Just leave it at that, Lieutenant-Colonel."

He nodded, "Aye, sir."

"When they release you tomorrow, you'll be taking some vacation time. No doubt you'll need time to heal after such a traumatic event."

Armstrong's gaze never wavered and he nodded, that simple glint in his eye showing his understand and compliance with the unspoken order, "Thank you, sir. Very generous of you."

"Just stop by headquarters before you head out. Be sure all your paperwork is in order for the leave."

"I will, sir."

Mustang nodded again and walked out, leaving the bulky man in his room. Just as Miles had been waiting for General Armstrong, Hawkeye had been waiting for him. She lowered her salute and pulled her long blue coat over her arms, buttoning it up a moment later.

"Will there be a problem, sir?"

"I don't know. Hopefully, she doesn't look too far into it."

"And the Lieutenant-Colonel?"

The started walking and Mustang ignored the throb of his left leg, "He's willing to go."

"You do realize he can't do undercover work very well."

"I know. I'm counting on it. Have we heard from Fullmetal?"

"No. Nothing yet, sir."

"Then hopefully we do by tomorrow morning."

"Fuery has set up a remote monitoring center. He's been able to listen in on more frequencies and farther away to be sure we'll hear anything regarding Amelie."

"Anything?"

She shook her head, "No. Nothing as of yet, sir."

"Tell him to keep on it."

"Of course, sir."

"Are all of the travel documents in order for Armstrong?"

"They are. And we've arranged for a two week tour of the west."

Mustang nodded, opening the door that led outside. The cold air slapped him hard in the face and he shrugged his coat higher to his chin. Hawkeye seemed unaffected. The snow drifts had diminished a bit, the sun melting away some layers of the frozen white.

Their ride was waiting and he opened her door before walking around the car and climbing sorely into the back seat. She eyed him, those chestnut eyes searching for the wounds that were the source of his furrowed brow. He ignored that pleading face. It was bad enough he was hurt; having her guilt him into submitting to a few days rest wouldn't make things easier on his conscience. Not while Amelie was running through this country trying to save it.

"She'll be fine, sir," Hawkeye's voice said softly.

His focused gaze turned to look at her and she gave a gentle smile. He sighed, "Is it that obvious?"

"Honestly? Yes. But only because I know that look."

"What look?" he asked defensively. He'd worked on this mask, on the facade of nonchalance that irked his subordinates. He'd gotten so blank he'd forgotten how easy it was to just turn on, like it was a look he never left the house without.

"Its the same look when you worry about us, sir."

He scoffed, "Don't know what you're talking about."

Her smile became more obvious and she returned her eyes to the winter white outside. Her profile made him curious. It looked like her smirk was set in place and he couldn't hardly ever remember her keeping it on for so long. Usually, it was here and gone like lightening. Now, it seemed rooted to her smooth complexion. His shoulders stiffening, he looked out his own window.

He saw Amelie.

His heart jumped into his throat and he sat forward, childishly pressing his hands against the window to see his baby sister better as the car continued to drive off. Her clothes were haggard and bloody, shreds of cloth and nothing more. She'd been standing barefoot in the snow. Hair unkempt. Eyes half-dead. He was sure he'd seen fresh blood trailing from her chest.

He couldn't say anything, his voice was too strained from the shock of seeing her. He pressed his face closer to the glass until the angle was too extreme to see her at all.

"Sir?" Hawkeye asked. Her smirk had been replaced quickly with a tight brow. Her hand was on his shoulder.

He looked at her, blank, "I thought...I thought I saw her."

Her eyebrows knit closer together and she looked out the rear window only to bring that scrutinizing gaze back on him.

"Are you feeling all right, sir?"

His body stiffened and he sank back into the seat, crossing his arms over his chest, "Fine."

He knew he'd lied. So did she. But saying nothing, she only returned her mind to the scenery outside, taking her hand from his shoulder.

He hated it when he couldn't explain himself to her. He knew she got flashbacks, too. Only it seemed hers where of people she'd never even seen the faces of. Faceless victims of her long-range sniper's aim. He wasn't sure which was worse: knowing each face as it flashed by, or seeing nothing but blanks. Lives snuffed and forgotten. They both suffered that fate. Why did she look so worried then, at his admittance of seeing someone he'd abandoned? It wasn't like it hadn't ever happened before.

"She's not Maes."

His neck cracked, he'd spun his head to look at her so quickly.

"We protect who we can. Some, we lose. Some, walk away. But we were there for them as much as we could be. You haven't buried her, sir. Don't let yourself think otherwise."

It was her solemn eyes, her folded hands in her lap, even her sweet, monotonous voice that made his throat swell in pain. He had to look away otherwise her lack of emotion would make his overflow.

* * *

Al watched her eat. The way her hand shook and trembled like the leaves clinging to the branch in autumn breezes. Just faintly enough to be noticed. Nothing fearful or anxious about it. He wondered if it was from her wounded wrist. If she'd even taken the time to heal herself properly. Those black eyes, deep in their thoughts. White, pin straight hair that managed to shield some of her bruises on her ivory face. That subtle grace that made each bite a little piece of art. His own food was growing cold and hers was half-gone.

The hospital had given Amelie the idea, and now they were just biding their time until she activated her branded alchemy. Al had to admit he was curious. The thought of Xingese alchestry on such a large scale made him dizzy with anticipation.

"When...when will you do it?" Winry asked quietly.

Amelie never looked up at her, just halted her fork halfway to her mouth, "I don't know. I'll have to see what will line up."

"Line up?" Winry asked.

"Alchemy on that large a scale can't be done on a whim. There has to be a lineup of the energy that's available. It could happen in ten minutes, or ten days. I don't know. I just have to wait."

"You can feel that?" Al asked, unable to keep an impressed half-grin off his face.

She nodded, "All the time. All I ever feel is death."

His grin fell away and he watched her leave the dining table. Although his head never lifted, Edward's eyes followed her, too. Al looked to his older brother and followed Amelie's lead, removing himself from the table to follow her.

She didn't look like she knew where she was going, but her footsteps were heavy against the polished wood floors of the hotel. He stayed a pace behind, unwilling to crowd but unable to leave her alone. Coming to a stop on the balcony, she rested her hands on the banister. The frozen winter white that surrounded them wasn't as snowed-in as Central, but it was still cold enough to show her breath as it came in slow, haunting exhales.

"You feel death?" Al asked, her silence too oppressive.

"The energy created from it. Twisting beneath the ground. Oppressive."

His brow furrowed, "That's how you do alchemy without moving, isn't it? Like connecting the dots. You use the energy under the ground."

"Everything is connected. Me to the the ground to the energy. That's the basis of Xingese alchestry, as well as fourteen other variations. The alchemy you use doesn't rely on the principle of connectivity, but on separation. Forming a separate circle within the bow of your arms, you separate your energy from the ground's and let the rapid reconnection of those separate energies create a transmutation. Like lightening. Separate things naturally bound together, and they create immense energy to return to their bonded state."

His mouth slightly agape, Al couldn't tear his gaze away from her. Her face looked so solemn. So tired and worn. The purple, about-to-be-yellow bruises on her skin made his hand move unwittingly. His fingertips found soft, tender skin at her cheek. She didn't pull away, didn't stare at him. Her shoulders slumped and she let a small, nasally exhale out. He watched her throat bob, her eyes drift close. Her skin still felt warm, still felt alive. It was like putting his fingertips over running water without submersing them. The energy he could feel just beyond his reach...

"Why are you doing this then?" he asked, his mouth dry.

Her eyes fluttered open, burning a hole into some object beyond his scope, "I made a promise to Maes."

"You..."

"Everything is connected. Me to the Gate to those beyond it."

"And you...you saw him?"

She sighed again, "I owe Maes. I have to protect Roy. Not just because he's my brother, but because Maes can't. I can do that much if nothing else."

"What do you owe him for?"

She turned those obsidian orbs onto him and gave a soft smile, "Can't give you all of my secrets, can I?"

He returned the smile, his fingertips still feeling the warmth of her cheek. Her eyes closed again and she continued to smile warmly, the cold air ignored even while her cheeks and nose turned pinched pink.

"I've missed this," she admitted.

He almost pulled his hand away; hers folded over it, shadowed it, kept it to her cheek. His dry mouth was like an ocean of sand and he couldn't help but sound rasp, "Missed what?"

"Feeling warm."

"You too?"

"It's the same for you, isn't it?" she asked.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Because we're connected to the Gate. Our bodies are there as much as they're here. It drains us...makes us feel cold."

"Then why do I feel warm when you...when I touch you?"

"Because its then that we're most a part of this world and not the other."


	13. Connections

_The Gate, and Truth, leered at him. One had no features besides the leer, the other was just stone. But they managed to leer and hound without ever saying a word. He could feel black tentacles reaching for him, beckoning him. The white androgynous figure walked closer, his arm and leg attached to it. _

_"So, do you want them back?" it asked._

_For one, tiny split second, he wanted to say yes. Then he realized he was alone. Alone and without any of the other "sacrifices". His heart jumped into his throat. Surely they hadn't..._

_"Where are the others?" he asked. _

_"Oh, they're not important."_

_"Are they alive?"_

_"Yes. And no."_

_"That's not good enough," Ed yelled._

_"Why? Afraid you'll be the last one standing?"_

_"Why am I here and they're not? I'm not the one who activated the circle."_

_"No, that would be Hohenheim. Shame that a reverse transmutation would take so much of him away. Which is why, young alchemist, we're here."_

_Ed only stared, confused. He remembered the fight. He remembered watching father turn into a mirror of himself. Young and strong, eternally. Mostly, he remembered his father's mirthful smile and the explosion that resulted. And now, he was standing in front of the Gate._

_"We're here because the toll's been paid in excess. You, dear alchemist, are being given a chance to amend your mistakes. Your country's been saved. Now, you reap the remnant token. Don't you want it?" Truth taunted. _

_The wheels in Edward's head spun wildly as he realized what was being offered. His chest thundered with the hope, the barest seam of possibility. _

_"My brother's body?" he asked. _

_Truth smiled, "Done."_

_"Sensei's insides?"_

_"Done."_

_"You're just giving them back?"_

_Truth's smile turned to a thoughtful frown, "Your equivalent exchange, is it not?"_

_Ed's brow furrowed, "What about Hohenheim?"_

_The smile returned, "He was your toll. I thought I made that clear..."_

_"You mean..."_

_"Do I have to spell it out for you? Or have you figured out enough?"_

_"He's dead?"_

_"A philosopher's stone made from souls went back to souls. A mortal man given for his mortal son. His toll has yet to be diminished. Continue wasting my time, and it will be. What else would you ask of me? Your limbs? Eyesight? Or perhaps something more dear to you: a life? A lost one?"_

_Ed's brows knit together, "You can't bring back the dead."_

_Truth laughed. It was threatening, hollow, omnipresent. Ed took a step back, unsure. The white figure's smile went away. Ed could only assume it had turned its back on him. _

_"Time is waning."_

_Ed panicked. How much more could he be given? How much more could he ask for before he owed again? His father had given his existence for something more than a purely equivalent exchange. He'd given his immortality for the lives of Amestris' citizens. He'd given his life for the chance that things could work in favor of his sons. _

_"That bastard colonel: give him his eyesight."_

_"Done."_

_Ed swallowed hard, "Is that all I get?"_

_Truth's smile reappeared, "No. You will know when your toll has been wasted. So, what else would you ask for? Your limbs?Isn't that all there is left for you idiots? The last toll you paid for seeing what I have to offer?"_

_Ed looked at his automail arm. He looked at the nonexistent ground to h__is covered steel foot. He could feel Truth creeping up on him, his own arms and legs still attached to the white figure. He looked straight into that smile, meeting it head on with his own._

* * *

Feeling his nerves scream, Ed clamped his jaw shut with determined eyes while Winry adjusted the port again. The unrelenting cold had caused some of the joints to shift, the arm squeaking in protest as he continued to ignore it. She had finally had enough and decided to force him into getting it adjusted again. Eyes at the ceiling, he ignored the pain shooting from prosthetic to flesh the best he could.

"This will help keep it from loosening again," she said idly.

"Didn't happen last time," he hissed when she tightened the bolt over his collarbone.

She shrugged, "I used a more flexible alloy this time. Had a feeling it might need some tightening. Besides, it's lighter, isn't it?"

He nodded, "Yeah."

She tightened the collarbone bolt another turn and his head shot back into the pillow, eyes clamping shut. Of all the bolts and pains, that was always the worst.

"Think you could not do that!" he hissed.

She gave an amused little smile, "Oh, don't be such a baby. It's not that bad."

While the pain ebbed away, he kept his eyes closed. Moving, breathing, made white flashes go off behind his eyelids. Even the thought of moving his arm made him groan. Whether she downplayed the pain to make him fight it, or just thought that much of him that he was putting on a show for sympathy, he didn't know. Either way, he was left in pain while she moved to another bolt against his shoulder. Against the still-fresh pain of the collarbone, the shoulder didn't hurt nearly at all. She turned it a bit, studied it, before turning it again. That last fraction of an inch made his jaw set up tight again. While he tried to push the pain down, he felt a cool cloth on over his brow and eyes. It helped. And every time he had to get adjustments on his automail, she'd give him the luxury of a wet cloth. The sweet water dripped and trailed down towards his ears, making him focus on that rather than the pain.

His jaw unclenched, he tentatively closed his fist. It didn't feel easy, but it was quicker to respond than it had been an hour ago. The pain would subside and he would have the same ease that his flesh fist received. For the moment, he was content that she had gotten the fix done and would now leave his metal parts alone. Thankful as he was for the tinkering, he hated the fact that he needed a wet cloth to hide the pain it caused.

"Do you really think Amelie will do what she says? Heal people?"

"It'd be nice," he admitted.

"It won't go unnoticed. People are bound to realize everyone's been taken care of. You think they'll ask questions?"

"If they do, word will reach Mustang. He'll know where she is. And that doesn't bode well for anyone. She'll have to keep a low profile about it."

"Should you call him? Tell him what she plans to do so he can work on minimizing the talk?"

Ed sighed, "If the Flame Alchemist dismisses it as a rumor in Central, it might be enough to keep the Council from looking into it. Although, General Armstrong might suspect something. Grumman, too. They both knew what was under this country."

"You should still call him. He might be able to pull strings."

Plucking the warming cloth off his eyes and tossing it onto the nightstand, he sat up and ignored the throb of remnant adjustments. He flexed his metal arm, straightened it, and flexed it again. True to her skill, it didn't feel anything but perfect.

"There a phone in the lobby?" he asked.

Winry nodded, "You okay to walk?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Thanks for the tune up."

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed before crossing the room. He pulled his coat on, the tender skin of his right shoulder making it a bit harder than normal.

* * *

His hand hurt. It was starting to cramp up. The pen in it wasn't helping. His headache brought on by a stack of paperwork wasn't too enjoyable, either. He wasn't even rightly sure what he was signing anymore, only knew that Hawkeye wouldn't take mercy on him just because he'd been beaten and trampled. She would walk into his office every now and then, giving no sign of sympathy. He half expected that, at some point, he would be dead and she would just stack more papers on top of him.

The door opened again and she walked in. This time, she had a cup of tea in one hand and her free hand was gently closed. He watched her when she stood in front of his desk, the tea being set aside and the other hand opening to reveal painkillers. Giving a mirthful little smirk, he tossed the pills to the back of his throat and took a sip of the warm tea to wash them down.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, sir."

How she always knew when he was in pain, and how she knew just when to offer release from it, he wasn't sure. He flexed his hand, the throb a bit more manageable. The phone at his desk rang and he reached for it. She was quicker and picked it up first, answering officiously and falling quiet a moment later.

She handed it to him and he took it, "Hello?"

"_You need to be ready to talk something down; figured I'd give you a heads up about it_," Edward's voice was haughty, a trait the young man only displayed with his favorite superior.

"Well, I appreciate it. Where?"

"_The northwest. You'll know it when you hear about it._"

"Is she with you?"

"_Yes._"

"Can I talk to her?"

"_No._"

"Well, can you give me any other details?"

_"She's going to heal a lot of the population. To what extent, I don't know. But she's biding her time. Think you can cover it up?_"

"Are you asking because you need me to, or because you don't think I can?"

He could practically hear Ed rolling his eyes, "_Don't get me wrong, Mustang. I'm not sure if she can do it. But if she does, it'll cause a lot of talk. If the highest-ranked alchemist in the country downplays it, she may be able to move on to the next town without anyone noticing her._"

"I have Armstrong ready to leave. Do you know where she'll head next?"

"_No. I'll tell you as soon as I know._"

"How is she?"

There was a pause; a pause that Mustang didn't like. He cleared his throat, expecting it might get Ed to answer quicker. But the Fullmetal Alchemist remained quiet, the silence on the line making Roy tap his finger against the desk.

"I asked a question."

The other end of the line went dead. Roy held the phone away from his ear, looking at it as if it could explain what had just happened. Exhaling through the sudden rush of fury and concern, he put it back down on the receiver.

Hawkeye only stayed vigilant, waiting silently for any instruction. His breath in calming him, he looked at his brown-eyed salvation.

"Get Armstrong ready to move out. Send him south. That will work for now."

"You think she'll head somewhere else?"

Mustang sighed, "I think I have to take that chance. At least if Armstrong's going south, his sister will send her lackeys to follow him. It might give Amelie the cover she needs."

* * *

Ed felt ashamed. Only slightly, but ashamed. With Amelie's black eyes watching him, he couldn't say much of anything to the General's question. He only held the phone, gold and black meeting somewhere between and Ed feeling entirely overpowered. With a sad little face, Mustang's younger sister walked closer and took the headset from the Fullmetal Alchemist. Ed didn't fight her.

"_I asked a question,_" Roy's voice echoed from the earpiece.

Amelie looked at it before putting it gently back onto the receiver, effectively ending the conversation. Ed smiled; at least her love of her brother meant she antagonized him as much as protected him.

Without a word, she turned away and walked back down the hall to the stairway. Her room on the third floor was right next to his and Winry's and, as much as Edward had hated to allow it, his little brother had roomed with her. He'd hoped Al would've been able to keep her reigned in. That rooming with her would show Ed's trust of both of them.

How she'd known he was on the phone, he would have to ask later. At the moment, he considered whether or not he should call Mustang back. No, it was bad enough the call was from an outside line and could've been tapped. But no names were mentioned and that would be enough to give the Flame Alchemist some cover.

Ed walked quickly from the booth, catching up to Amelie on the third or fourth stair, "He needed to know."

"You're an idiot," she mumbled.

He glared at her, "Excuse me? I'm trying to help you!"

She stopped and pinned him with those obsidian eyes, "Do you honestly think people will ignore what happens? Or that you being here will make it less obvious? The Fullmetal Alchemist, hero of the people, in a town when a grand-scale alchemical reaction occurs: you'll get pinned for it and how do you think that will bode for my mobility? Anywhere you go, they'll expect it. I won't be able to do my job with you around."

She started climbing stairs again and Ed stayed pinned even once those eyes weren't in sight anymore. He looked up, watching her go. Teeth clenched, he caught up to her again. They walked side by side for a moment silently while he tried to figure the best comeback.

In the end of his inner battle, the best he could pull was, "If you hurt my brother, or betray his trust, I don't think you'll have to worry about finishing this job."

"You can't take me."

"I would win. Because I'm not afraid of alchemy. You are. He's my brother and I won't hesitate if you hurt him."

"He's a gentle soul. He shouldn't be in a battlefield. Neither should your girlfriend."

He bristled a bit. This had quickly taken a turn he wasn't expecting. But the topic had been breached by his own tongue and he would be damned if he didn't finish it off.

He straightened, "They can handle themselves."

"No. They can't. And that's where you and I differ, Mr. Elric."

"How so?"

"I know to leave behind my liabilities. To put as much distance between me and him as possible. If someone goes after Roy, he will be able to defend himself so long as I'm not there. I won't distract him. Alternately, he won't be here to distract me."

"Together, you two wouldn't have to worry about being targeted. You're stronger together than apart."

"But apart, all we have is hope. The hope that the other is safe. Together, we worry. We hesitate. We see the cruel truth for what it is. That either of us could be held hostage and the other wouldn't be able, or willing, to fight. I'd like to think I could turn my back on Roy, and that he'd do the same, but it wouldn't happen. I would get him killed if he came to help me. And by bringing your brother and girlfriend here, you're condemning one, if not both, to die. They'll be used against you. And you'll have to choose who to save, but it won't matter. Whoever lives, you'll never be able to see again. You'll alienate them because of the guilt eating away at you. You'll play judge, jury, and executioner. And when you're forced to choose, then maybe you'll understand me a little better. But not before."

Ed's heart had stopped beating the moment she'd said it. The moment she confirmed his nightmare as being a possibility, he felt his skin go cold, his forehead drip with frozen sweat. Just inhaling, pulling in air, felt impossible. He couldn't even continue up the stairs, his feet were leaden and uncooperative. She had walked on, one hand against the wall to help herself up.

She stopped and looked down on him, eyes glazed, "I'm sorry."

Her back turned to him again and he leaned against the wall, each breath causing more pain than the one before.

Amelie climbed out of sight, leaving the blonde alchemist behind on the stairs. Although she had no doubts that the young man had always known the possibility existed, she doubted he'd actually let himself believe it might happen. Cruel as it was to make him face it, she was doing him a favor. The moment she'd faced it, she'd been able to leave Roy's side and continue on with her life. And Roy had done well for himself. Promotions, perks, the keys to a kingdom. Likewise, she had found her peace and sanctuary in far-off lands. Apart, they led good lives. Together, it was miserable. They were both reminded that they had chosen something other than family to save. They'd chosen to save themselves instead of the sibling they loved.

She'd fled. He'd stayed with the army. In no world, in no life, could they ever look at the other without feeling that guilt drag nails across their souls.

Boots. She saw boots in her field of vision and it occurred to her that she'd reached the top floor. Her eyes traveled up to see the woman, Winry, standing there with an all-too-familiar look in her eyes. Amelie sighed.

Eavesdropping, even accidentally, was a burden.

She walked by, making sure not to hold eye contact any longer than she had to. Her heart slowed when the automail engineer took up stride next to her.

"He would choose Al. I know it."

Amelie only looked at her, "You don't think he loves you?"

The blonde sighed, "He loves his brother more."

Her feet stopped walking of their own accord and she searched for the engineer's downcast eyes, "Which is why he would let his brother go."

Winry's blue eyes snapped to hers, her statement like a magnet, "What?"

"He would choose you because he knows his brother doesn't doubt that love. If Alphonse were to die, he would die knowing Edward always loved him, that nothing had changed that. You, however...He would risk his brother's life to prove it to you."

When she started walking and the engineer failed to fall in step, Amelie knew she'd said the only thing she could.

* * *

It wasn't the choice that puzzled him. It had never really been that. Roderick knew he'd made his choices, and that others had made theirs. But now, he reflected, the choices seemed a bit more muddled than clear. It was the cloudiness, the fog, that puzzled him. At this particular moment, he was sure Amelie Rochester was the cause of that proverbial fog.

She walked along, unawares. Her gaze was tired, worn thin. Her steps were haggardly painful to watch. It seemed more like a death march than the walk of a powerful alchemist.

The windows only let him get glimpses of her, partial moments in her stride. And in none of the moments that he was able to see her, did he see her as anything but a boon. She was powerful. It radiated off her like perfume. His eye, attuned as it was, could see her dormant prowess. All she had to do was think it, and it would be activated. That was a talent he would kill for.

The end of the hall, the end of his glimpse. Her room was one of the last ones, doorway hidden by walls he couldn't see through. He sighed, the huff of air condensing and disappearing a moment later. His eyes, natural and mechanical, looked back the way she'd come to see the blonde alchemist trod heavily down the same path. He smiled.

The boy had found her almost as quickly as he had. Unexpected, but not surprising. That boy was the closest match she had, and she still outranked him by vast knowledge.

The choice, and the cloud surrounding it, was whether or not to bide his time. He could pounce and have her create a stone here, or wait until the next stop. He could show himself, idly threaten, and keep her in line while tagging along. He supposed he could even just hint, nudge, and prod her into making a stone.

He only needed three. Three, and he would be able to find his salvation. What she did elsewhere, he didn't care. He didn't care if she erased that final circle. So long as she made him what he needed, he didn't care if she stopped the circular flow of energy beneath the country. Even if she did, there were still hot spots, places that could be utilized later on down the road.

The sound of heavy, uneven footsteps made him look over his shoulder. He smiled when he saw the company.

"Didn't think it would take you that long to get up the stairs," Roderick admitted.

It growled. Roderick turned his smile back to the nonexistent view of the girl who could save them. He supposed he should have known better. The chimera, a hybrid, was many things: but able to climb stairs wasn't something it was built for. Hooves had no grip on icy stone. On flat, or even sloped, terrain, there was no question it could outrun anything. But the stairs were a problem. That said, it crossed the rooftop and each step made Roderick's chest pound.

"Is she here?" it asked, voice gurgling like it were underwater.

"Yes."

"And?"

"We'll wait. Storming in isn't beneficial. Startled, she may attack without restraint."

"And the Flame Alchemist?"

"He's being watched. I doubt he knows just what his baby sister plans to do. Giving him a nudge in the wrong direction will help solve matters. We won't have to hunt her down if he does."

"I still don't think he'll kill her."

Roderick planted his foot on the ledge of the rooftop, elbows crossing over the bent knee, "If he doesn't, we can. We just need power. A philosopher's stone, or her death, will give it to us. She's planning to use this energy to heal the local infirm. It won't take much to redirect it into a stone."

"She'll know you've redirected the transmutation. She'll cut the energy off if that happens," the creature sat awkwardly, half between a kneel and a stretch.

"So, we make sure she's unable, or unwilling, to cut it off."

"You plan on using the Fullmetal Alchemist? I don't think she'll care much at all."

"I don't know. I'm not sure where her loyalty lies right now. For all we know, she might be that coldhearted, watch him die and not care."

"That would throw a wrench into the thick of it."

"Then we settle using her instead of a stone."

The beast sighed, the breath coming out of large lungs enough to blow aside Roderick's bangs, "I still think we should just attack. Kill her and we're done. We'll have a toll."

"But we also only get one shot. Having a backup plan, the stones, will save us the hassle of drumming up trouble again."

The creature fell silent, its eyes overlooking the pedestrians and able-bodied. Roderick, his eyes watching for the reappearance of the Soul Alchemist, never wavered his vigilance from the windows.

* * *

Al knew something was off the moment Amelie walked into the room. Her eyes were downtrodden. Although she was quiet and unobtrusive to begin with, she was strong and held a gaze. Her inner strength and resolution always boiled to the surface, no matter how timid a voice she might have possessed. He stood from the book and the couch, ignoring them both to watch her cross the room and curl up on the bed without so much as a word or a glance in his direction.

"Amelie?" he asked.

She didn't say anything, only curled up smaller, bringing her knees to her chin. She wasn't big by any means – lithe and fragile, he would say – but seeing her wrap around herself so made his fists clench. No matter what was the true cause of her turmoil, he had some idea his brother had instigated it. His breath escaping in a long, drawn sigh, he closed the book and walked over to the bed before sitting aside her.

"Amelie?"

Her eyes looked up at him and she looked away again, at some point in the air, "Things are going to get worse, Alphonse."

"We'll deal. Brother and I always have."

She blinked a few times. She spared him another considering look before wrapping herself tighter, "I think I just need to sleep, if you don't mind."

He nodded, "Of course," he started to leave when her hand darted out and caught his wrist. Half-standing, he looked back at her. Her eyes never met his, never left their trance, but her voice was thick.

"Can you stay?"

Her hand never leaving his wrist, he crawled around behind her, lying on his side to mold his body behind hers. His arm draped over the small of her waist, her hand still gently securing his wrist, he laid there. She smelled like trees, like a fresh lawn. Earthy. Her white hair was soft and thin. He watched the small tempo on her temple beat in rhythm to the heartbeat pulse he felt behind her fingertips. She looked like a doll.

He shadowed himself closer to her back. Her shoulders rose and fell. He could barely see those midnight eyes while they drifted close. Taking solace in the idea that he could at least give her some comfort, he found his own eyes drifting slowly closed as well.

* * *

Eavesdropping truly was a horrible thing. It made him feel guilty. Not to mention divided. Winry had been so sure that he would choose Alphonse if the choice arose. And Amelie had been sure he wouldn't. So where did that leave him? Who was he supposed to choose, and how was he supposed to live with that choice?

There were no cliffs in Riviere. No barren landscape. And he doubted that would change anytime soon. But that didn't mean the choice in his nightmare couldn't become reality.

His metal hand closed around the doorknob to his room. To his and Winry's room. She would be inside, her mind whirling her in a million different directions just as his was doing to him. Unsettled, unsure, and insecure. He wasn't sure if that was how she was feeling, or just how he hoped she was. Because if she was, it meant he didn't have to feel so terrible about feeling that way himself.

He pushed the door open gently. Even with the bright sunlight outside, the curtains made it look like night. She might've closed them because of the snow's reflection. Or, because it was too hard to look at something so beautiful when there were dark thoughts crawling around inside.

She was sitting on the bed, hands folded in her lap, blonde hair hiding that face he loved so much. He didn't know what to say that wouldn't sound fake or tried. How could he tell her what Amelie said was or wasn't true when he hadn't even made the choice yet? It was battle that was becoming useless. His body was screaming at him. Seeing her in pain because of something he hadn't even done, but exposed her to, created a deep cavern in his chest. There was no way to know who he'd choose. No way to assure her that it would be her, or Al...and maybe she didn't want to know. Maybe she wanted him to choose Al. Or, maybe she didn't.

Sitting next to her, the bed dipped with the weight and she didn't even bother looking at him. Her figure melted into his, his arm going around her shoulders.

He'd hurt her. He'd caused her pain and he couldn't even say he knew how to apologize for it.

Leaning down, he kissed her on the forehead. Her face pulled up, those blue eyes full of tears she refused to shed, and he loved her. For her strength, for the weaknesses she hid from him. His lips moved to hers, his hand molding around her jaw. He felt the warmth of her hand splayed out over his chest, her mouth open to his.

They needed this. Hell, they'd put it off long enough that no one could argue even if they wanted to. His own brain couldn't even begin to form an opposition when she sat on his lap with lips still joined. His hands trailed up her arms, his flesh fingers combing through her hair to hold her head. Metal fingers ventured under cotton.

How could they say no when they weren't even admitting there was a choice?


	14. Red

Roy yanked on his coat too hard, his involuntary hiss of pain catching the attention of his men. His action slowed, his thick black overcoat weighing heavy against the bruised body. Reaching for the other sleeve, he found that twisting his arm awkwardly to get it caused even more pain.

Hawkeye held it out for him. Although the angle was still extreme enough to make his nerves burn, it wasn't anywhere near as bad as being called on to wriggle into the wool coat by himself. He nodded a small thank you and caught the way she smiled ever so slightly. She sat back at her desk while Breda, Falman and Fuery looked back to their paperwork. Admitting the Flame Alchemist was injured was one thing. Gawking was another.

"You're heading home, sir?" his right-hand asked; although she had the ability to make it sound like a statement.

"Yes. I expect all of you to be following my example before too long."

"We will, sir. Enjoy your weekend," Hawkeye answered for the remaining soldiers.

Roy had to hide the smirk; in no way was Riza about to let them out of this office for at least another few hours. He could tell that just from the way she'd doled out paperwork.

Leaving the office, he strolled through the halls of Central. Passing soldiers saluted and he ignored them. They would go back to their task the moment he walked on. Some of them he recognized. Others, he was sure were fresh grunts out of the academy or boot camp. He could see life in their eyes. That was how he told them apart. Those who'd seen battle, who'd served with him, each had a bit of death in their face.

The walk home wasn't as lonely as he thought it might be. Most of Central's schools had been shut down due to the excessive snow, and the children were just now being called in for supper. Snowball fights stopped with the occasional cheap shot.

His house was lit only by the streetlight down a block. At this hour, the last bit of sunlight gave everything a hell-red glow. Stepping inside the mostly-unused mansion, he wished desperately that dinner, and company, were there waiting for him. Some semblance of family. When Maes had been alive, and they'd been station in Central together for a time, he would find his friend and Gracia sitting at his table, chatting idly until he got home. Somehow, Maes always made it home before he did. They would sit, drink brandy – Gracia opted for wine – and talk about their days. At the time, Gracia had been a teacher. He and Maes often would be grateful for the childrens' daily activities in lieu of military affairs.

Every once in a while, the men under him would come over, as would Riza, and they'd have poker night. Usually, it resulted in four grown men camping out at his place while Gracia and Riza would head home for the night. Maes would always leave with them, walking Riza to her military dorms before escorting Gracia home.

Things had been simpler then. Before the Elrics. Before Mustang had been promoted and shipped to Eastern Headquarters. Before Maes had been killed. They'd survived the war, and that was enough to make them happy with life.

He slowly let his coat drop off his shoulders, catching it before it hit the floor. He draped it over the nearby recliner and walked into the empty kitchen. Opening cupboard after cupboard, he found stale breads, canned goods, and not much more. He'd forgotten to pick up groceries in all the chaos of the last week.

He ducked. The butcher's knife lodged in the wood of the cupboard door, shaking. Half-crouched, Mustang spun to see his attacker. A man – and no physical threat from his build. His brown hair was shaggy and his eyes were hidden by tinted glasses. He stood about the same height as Roy, calm and relaxed in his appearance. A wicked smile was the only giveaway that the man's intentions were anything but friendly. Well, that and the knife embedded in the cupboard door.

"I guess Ishbal did you some good after all."

Roy stood slowly, "And you are?"

"I have a message about your sister. That's all you need to know."

The short hairs on Roy's neck stood upright, his skin getting too tight, "I don't have a sister. You're mistaken."

A short, harsh little laugh, "Oh, you do, all right. And pretending otherwise won't work with me. Anyway, your sister, dear thing, is playing you. She's not exactly on your team, General."

Roy's jaw clenched. The man, eyes hidden behind the glasses, never stopped that grating smile. Finding his fists clenching at his sides, Roy moved closer, "There are no teams. She's doing what she has to."

"Even if it means making a philosopher's stone? I mean, of course she's not killing anyone to do it, but she is using those souls to build herself a weapon. Morally, I would think that would rankle you."

"She wouldn't do it. And she doesn't need a weapon, believe me."

The man shrugged, "Fine. Just a warning. I was hoping you'd take it at face value."

"I think you'd better leave before I turn you into a roast."

"Your call, General. But if you don't stop her..I may have to find someone who will."

Without the thought crossing his mind, Roy found his fist flying. The man dodged the angry swing, that smile still on his face and starting to eat away at Roy's last shred of control.

"Don't go near her," he growled.

"And what shape do you think you're in to take me? Or her?"

The Flame Alchemist lunged, grabbing a good hold of the man's shirt collar, "Who are you?"

"A mirage. Nothing more."

Roy saw the blur of movement, the fist aimed for him, but it wasn't quick enough. The man's powerful punch landed in his gut and forced him to double over. He tried to stand, furious at his own body for being unwilling and unable to take a single gut-shot. It had felt like stone hitting his stomach and he coughed violently.

The man's hand came back around, his cannonball fist slamming hard on Roy's back. The General went down to all fours, coughing out blood. When the man's foot came into view, he managed to catch it just inches from his chin. He forced it away, the momentum enough to help get him to his feet. Bracing himself on the island, he spat the blood onto the floor.

With a smile that stretched from ear to ear, the man just stared at him, "You really think you're a match for me, General? You're beaten, you're gloveless, and you don't even really believe I'm in the wrong. That's not the best way to win a fight."

Roy's hand was reaching blindly behind him. Finding the handle of a pan, he wrapped his fingers around it and brought the wrought iron frying pan to meet the man's head. It struck and Roy's eyes went wide to see the man never flinch. The pan was dented. His grip went slack and he dropped the heavy skillet.

"Fine. But don't expect me to help clean up the mess she'll make," the man complained, brushing his brown hair back into place – it had been matted from the force of the blow.

The man sank into the ground. Just like the monster that had gotten Roy into his current situation, the body sank into the ground without ever leaving a trace. His mind whirled through the possibilities. A transmuted mirage? Someone using alchemy to create a statue that could walk and talk? It wasn't out of the question, but it wasn't exactly easy. The fist had felt like stone. The pan had dented. Had he been fighting a rock in the form of a human?

* * *

Roderick opened his eyes, chuckling. The hybrid moved towards him, waiting. Still on the rooftop, still waiting, the man had decided baiting was a more effective way to lure Mustang to finish the job Roderick needed him to.

"Well?" his companion asked.

"Game on."

"I don't think it'll happen."

"Did you know it only takes two pounds of pressure to break through human flesh? We're fragile creatures. Similarly, it doesn't take that much to sway us, either. A well-placed word or gesture, and we spiral into our worst fears regardless of logic. He's doubted her his whole life. One gentle nudge, and he'll take it a step further. We just have to be there to capitalize on it."

* * *

Even if he had all the time in the world, he was sure it wouldn't be enough. He wanted to lie here, study her, and take eternity to do it. That was what love was, wasn't it? The need, the urge, to know someone so completely that there was no missing space between them. His flesh hand trailed down the curve of her face, thumb brushing gently over her lips. His body was still thrumming, his usual alert self pushed deep by this peaceful silence. Her own eyes were half-lidded. But she still managed to press herself a little closer, their bodies slick with perspiration. Was he supposed to say what he felt now? What this that moment he'd read about in poems and novels? The silent, unspoken words that seemed to be inconsequential compared to their looks, their touches?

"Winry..."

"Hmm?"

"Was...did you..."

She smiled, her eyes crunching up as her cheeks rounded out, "You did fine," she assured him, tilting her face closer to kiss him again.

The nerves that had decided to flutter around in his stomach settled out and he couldn't help but smile when she brushed his sweaty bangs off his forehead, tucking them behind his ear. He sighed and she kept her hand molded to his cheek.

"What?" she asked.

"I don't think things are going to get easier from here."

"They never do, silly."

"I don't want you to get hurt. Maybe you should head back to Central."

"I'm not leaving, Ed."

"Stubborn automail junkie."

"Clapping alchemy freak."

Her tender smile made him wrap her in his arms tighter, pull her closer. She rested her head against his chest, hands folded between them. The world and its problems could wait for now. He had something more important to deal with.

* * *

Amelie's eyes snapped open. Her brain fired off a million different questions, but the first and foremost was regarding the warm body shadowed behind her. Her body tensed for dangerous moment until she remembered she'd asked Alphonse to stay. Knowing he had, and was evidently sound asleep, made her frantic heartbeat slow to a bit more normal a pace. But even then, she real reason she'd woken up so suddenly was the shifting, grinding power beneath her. She could feel it worming into position.

Gently removing herself from the bed, she took a moment to watch the younger alchemist as he slept. Golden short hair, a body that could have been muscular and built in a few more years. Knowing what she knew, she was able to dismiss his smaller build to the unique situation. Others would look at him and his brother and assume Edward was the stronger one by default. She sighed, gathering her coat up before leaving the room. She didn't have much time, and she hoped she could perform the transmutation and be gone before Alphonse or his brother discovered she'd left the hotel.

She didn't bother walking down the hall. She opened the window at the dead end near her and climbed out onto the fire escape ladder. Keeping her eyes to the ground some thirty feet below her, she slowly slid the window closed.

She gasped and clutched tightly to the windowsill when a hand reached for hers. She opened her eyes to see Alphonse standing over her with a half-bemused look on his face.

"You scared me!" she hissed quietly at him.

"You're the one climbing out a window in the middle of the night. Off, are you?"

Her brow tightened, "Maybe."

He laughed a little, "Let me tag along. I want to watch."

She surveyed him. He seemed genuinely interested in Xingese alchestry, and teaching wasn't anything she couldn't do. She continued down the fire escape ladder without saying no and was grateful he at least understood her lack of refusal to be an invitation. They climbed the ladder together and Amelie could hear the soft crunching of snow under her boots. Al landed next to her.

"So? Where to?"

"The hospital. It'll be easier to gather the energy under its target."

They started walking along the maze-like paths while the moon crept out from behind thick, snow-filled clouds. Al continuously kept his gaze skyward.

"Looks like it'll be a cold winter. Especially if we're snowbound this early in the season."

Amelie remained quiet, "I've gotten used to being cold. Occupational hazard, I suppose."

The younger alchemist stared at her for a long moment while she kept her attention on the paths to find the one that could bring them to the hospital. It was bright white against the black sky behind it. The red cross stood out like a stain. Coming around to the back, she found the entrance to the basement. Clapping silently, Al pressed his hands to the lock and chain keeping the doors closed. They fell to the ground as a pile of spare parts. Amelie looked at him and he found her gaze to be anything but thankful.

"What?" he asked.

She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a key, "I had it covered."

His brow furrowed, "When did you get that?"

"I stole it earlier when we were touring the hospital."

"Oh."

She tried to heft the large door open and it took Al's help to get it to budge. They pushed it over, letting it fall flat against the snow bank afterward. The stairs down led into black and Amelie started forward without concern for the lack of visibility. Al followed, the pale moonlight not extending past the first platform.

"How can you see?" he asked.

"I don't need to."

"Yeah. Right. Everything's connected, huh?" he asked sheepishly, "So that means you can see in the dark?"

"In a way. I can feel where energy ebbs and stalls. That at least gives me some idea of where the walls are. Doesn't help so much with big open spaces, though," she admitted.

The stairs ended and she found herself facing such a predicament. Cavernous, she could hear the echoes of her and Al's footsteps. The drips of leaking pipes. No doubt some had burst with the freezing temperatures. Al stayed at her side and she could only tell by the distinct feel of his body. It was like being nearer the Gate without ever activating the transmutation.

"So? What now?"

She sighed, "I do my job. You might want to step back a few paces," she said tiredly.

She heard his soft footfalls over the dirt as he moved away. Kneeling, she mentally ran through the energy she felt under her. The bodies that needed her help above her. Each was a separate, living entity. And doing what she wanted was a form of human transmutation. Not severe enough to open the Gate, but enough to let her feel its pull on her the moment she started rearranging the alchemy to her bidding.

She started to glow. It had been so long since she'd done something like this, that she'd almost forgotten it happened. Soft gold, the Gate's warmth, surrounded her. Al's face, now that she could see it, was caught between apprehension and wonder. Such close emotions. A lack of understanding, a lack of relation.

_Clack_.

She froze, unsure of the sound. It wasn't water dripping. Wasn't a busted pipe. Another distinct sound followed it; stone against something hard – what she couldn't say. Her golden glow still illuminating the room, she felt her energy suddenly drained. Her head spun and she tried to blink away the swirling world.

"Amelie?" Al asked.

She looked at him. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. The clacking noise was getting closer. It sounded too purposeful to be random. And her body felt colder than normal, the Gate's pull stronger than it had been a moment ago. She looked to the ground beneath her and saw that outline drag its way to the surface. The eye opened and she tried to stand, to get away. She hadn't even finished the transmutation. There was no call for it to open.

Al reached for her and when he did, the source of the clacking intrusion showed itself. A thick, monstrous hand reached for the alchemist and threw him across the room.

"Alphonse!" she tried to run to his side as he crumpled against the wall he'd hit. He was awake, his head shaking. Her feet were rooted to the Gate's eye as it opened and started swallowing her.

She tried to redirect the energy, to close the tollkeeper. Whether it was her distraction that wasn't letting her do it, or something else, she was stuck half-sunk into the ground, clawing at the loose frozen dirt to pull herself out. A hoof stepped on her palm and she cried out. The weight behind it was too much and her bones were snapping like tinder. The eye beneath her getting wider, she continued to fall deeper into the Gate. Her palm felt like it would be ripped off.

A face a mix of a lion's and a human's got down into hers and she could only stare. Alphonse was trying to get up, trying to shake off the hard hit.

"What...?"

"Thank you," a familiar voice said behind her.

She shot her eyes towards it, over her shoulder, only to see those glasses and that smile. Roderick was reaching over her as she held onto the earth for her life. She looked up and saw red. A jagged crimson stone was forming over her head and she stared at it, dumbfounded.

"How...I didn't..."

The eye opened wider and she yelped when she was left reaching for ground that was almost nonexistent.

The eye closed. The ground shot back up to meet her and she was left lying on the dirt. The creature lifted its hoof off her palm and she cradled it to her chest. Above her, Roderick's hand closed around the red stone, hiding the red glow emanating from it. The four of them were bathed in subdued hellish hues.

The man she'd left behind on the train leered down at her, "I told you it would be easier to just cooperate."

"How did you...I was healing them!" she cried.

"And now, you've made me a stone. Thanks. Oh, and don't bother trying to find him," Roderick's eyes looked across the room to where Al was getting shaky legs beneath him.

The beast grabbed him around his waist, slamming him back into the wall hard enough to crack it. Amelie shot to her feet and her alchemy raced through the earth to throw a wall between the creature and Al.

She wasn't expecting a tail. The hybrid's rear appendage whipped around and caught her at her shoulders, throwing her sideways into the very wall she'd created. What happened afterward, she was oblivious to. Her world went black, her ears deaf to the sound of Roderick's laughter.


	15. Lies

Ed knew that feeling. He sat up in bed, eyes scanning the room for what he felt. A pull, a tingle. Something he'd hoped he'd never feel again. Winry sat up next to him. Her gaze swept around the room. Seeing nothing out of place, she looked to him.

"Ed?"

"I think Amelie's trying to open the Gate," Ed admitted.

"What? Why would she do that?"

Leaving the warmth of the bed, Ed yanked on his pants and buckled his belt. He grabbed for his shirt and looked at Winry over his shoulder, "Get dressed. We have to find her."

She nodded, following his routine. Pulling his shirt down over his head while he left the room, he crossed the hall to Alphonse's room. He knocked. No answer.

"Al? You in?"

He was going to kill his little brother if he'd gone out with Amelie. He was going to kill her if she'd opened the Gate. He knocked again and when he'd waited too long for his impatience, he opened the door. The room was black. He made a pass at the switch and blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light. Nothing was disturbed. The bed didn't even look used. A book was closed on the couch. Nothing else. It was like the room hadn't ever been occupied. He stood there, angry breaths passing out through his nose.

"Are they here?" Winry asked, walking in next to him.

"No."

"What's wrong?"

"I felt the Gate open. I know I did."

"She was supposed to be healing them."

"If Al was with her, he wouldn't let her do it."

"You don't think something happened, do you?"

He didn't answer her. He couldn't. Any possibility of Amelie opening the Gate meant Al had allowed it, or hadn't been able to stop it. Neither option gave Ed's pounding heart a chance to calm. He left his brother's room and charged back into his own, grabbing his coat and Winry's. Her stride matching his, they stormed out of the hotel into the black night. Winry clung to him, her blue eyes wandering the scene to find their target.

* * *

If he'd actually been asleep, Roy could've said the telephone call woke him up. With the visitor he'd had, he'd ended up staying awake in his recliner sipping at scotch for the entirety of the night. So the phone ringing wasn't so much a disturbance as a welcome relief from his trampled thoughts. He set the half-empty glass aside and lifted the headset.

"Hello?" he asked; his voice sounded rough even to his own ears.

"Amelie's gone."

He straightened; Ed's voice wasn't exactly relaxed and Roy could hear the tension dripping from it.

"And?"

"So is Al."

Swallowing back something akin to sympathy, Roy tried to muster the authority back into his voice, "I'm sure there's nothing wrong."

"She opened the Gate, Mustang. I felt it."

Another blow to his detached facade, "Anything come up this morning?"

"No. No talk about a miraculous healing session. Nothing bad either."

"So there's nothing to say she's just not laying low."

"Then where's my brother? Winry and I've been through this town a dozen times over since midnight trying to find them."

"And you're calling me because..."

"Because you always seem to know something. And you can keep your ear out to see if they've been arrested."

"I haven't heard anything. Though I doubt I would be the first one the authorities would call if she were taken into custody."

"Fine. Fine. Just keep an ear out, okay?"

The youth's impatience made Roy smile and he nodded, "Of course."

The line went dead and Roy let the headset sit back on the receiver. He looked back at the scotch that had kept him sane through the night. A mysterious thing made of stone, able to walk and talk like any living human, had threatened his sister. And now she was missed along with Alphonse. How much could he blame on coincidence and how threatened was he supposed to be? Crossing the room, he lifted the amber glass back to his lips and took another sip. His motion reflected in the mirror over the fireplace. He looked a wreck. He'd never changed out of his clothes, his eyes were dull, and he was sure there was some dried blood on the collar of his shirt. How Amelie and her troubles always managed to drag him down, he hadn't a clue. But this wasn't just her. This was someone that was using them. Making him wonder if Amelie really was on his side.

He couldn't blame her if she wasn't. Not really. He'd left her to pursue his own goals. He didn't know what her time away had done to her. He could see what effect it'd had, but what had she gone through because he hadn't helped her?

Seeing her at his office, those black eyes asking for salvation, he'd snapped at her. Sent death to her on a silver platter. She'd averted it and diffused it. Maybe that gut reaction was the best to go with. Especially if Al was missing alongside her.

Would he be able to attack her again?

* * *

She knew she was drifting between here and there. She knew her transmutation had been undercut and turned against her. She even knew on some level that Alphonse wasn't nearby. That he'd been taken while she lay unconscious. But aside from that, she wasn't sure of much else. Not with regard to her next step, her next move. Definitely not about why her body felt like it was thrumming. She remembered her hand being crushed, but she couldn't feel the pain. She'd been sore from the earlier run-ins, but now she felt rebuilt.

She opened her eyes and saw white. She sighed. The Gate. She'd hoped she'd wake up in the world, not in the void. Sitting up slowly, she looked around and didn't even care that the looming doors were closed. Truth was sitting against the doors, idle.

"So, who was he?"

"Roderick. I thought you'd remember that," Truth said condescendingly.

She rolled her eyes, "I meant in a grander sense."

"You want history, I assume."

"I want to know what he did to my transmutation. How did he make a stone out of my work?"

"You're so demanding."

"Its within my realm. You owe me an explanation."

That white figure vanished and reappeared closer to her. Used to it, she didn't jump. She just let Truth's hand touch her head. Unlike being dragged through the Gate, Truth's visions didn't hurt nearly so terribly. The pressure behind her eyes was bearable, her body didn't rack with pain.

As soon as it had come, it'd gone and Amelie was left breathless. While her body tried to catch up with her mind, she looked at the white guardian and found herself at a loss for words. In theory, what was being done was possible. It was feasible, even. But to actually do it...

"So, satisfied?" Truth asked.

She nodded. At least by knowing she could form some way to fight what the man was doing. But even then...

"You should wake up now," Truth offered.

Her decision or not, the world came back to her and replaced her white sanctuary. Her eyes shot open and she saw wet stone and dreary pipes over her head. She was back and Truth had sent her. Her brow furrowed to feel her body still thrumming, power coursing through it and healing her body. It took her a moment to feel the source of the power.

Her right hand uncurled to show a small, jagged red stone.

She sat up too fast and her eyes lost their blood flow for a moment. Left hand pressed to her forehead, she felt her heart beating too fast. Her lungs were pushing air in and out of her body too fast. She could feel the power, the souls trapped in the stone. She hadn't meant to create one, had never intended to...but that bastard had overridden her transmutation. Now, for whatever reason, he'd left her with the byproduct and had started the healing process from it.

She wanted to throw it out, to be rid of it. As long as it touched her, she felt the sickening power made from human souls. It made her stomach turn over and and her slowly-returning vision flicker.

But she felt warm. Her body felt for once like it was radiating heat.

She closed her fist around the stone and held it close to her chest.

Now, no matter what Roy or the brothers thought—

"Alphonse!" she cried out, her mind bringing back that horrible crunch. Those cruel words before she'd been knocked to the void. She spun, on hands and knees, to look around herself. The basement was undamaged. No evidence of her alchemy or the broken wall. No sign that anyone beside herself had been here. Even then...

Where had that bastard taken the younger brother? It was her damn fault for letting him tag along. She'd gone against her better judgment in the hopes he could see how the alchemy worked. There was no doubt in her mind that the older brother would be looking for his kin and that she'd suddenly made herself a new enemy by his disappearance even without playing a hand in it.

She had a job to do. And if Alphonse was in danger, saving him wouldn't do much good until she could eliminate that danger. Which meant she had to move on. Confronting Edward at this point would accomplish nothing. The older brother already distrusted her and she doubted she could hide a stone from him. He'd been to the Gate, he'd sense it and the power it had. And she doubted he would be willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, either.

Tucking the stone away, she stood on steady legs. Giving one last glance around the basement, she walked back up the stairs she'd come down earlier. Pushing aside the door, the bright sun outside blinded her for a moment. With the stone still invading her senses, she pushed herself towards the train station.

* * *

His hands were tied. His eyes were open but he couldn't see. From the all-encompassing blackness, he had to assume there was a cloth bag over his head. With his hands behind his back, he couldn't clap. There wasn't even enough wriggle room to begin a transmutation. The ground was beneath his side and he tried to roll onto his front to get on his knees at least. From there, standing was difficult but not impossible.

He walked, stepping timidly to avoid tripping. The only sounds nearby were a gentle rumble, something that sounded like breathing, and a breeze. He felt that as much as heard it. It was cold, refreshingly so, and it at least gave him some reassurance he wasn't trapped underground.

A toe felt something through his boot. He reflexively pulled back and stayed still, unsure. He heard a shuffling and he backed up, sure that whatever he'd touched was alive and now, awake. There was no more sound but he still continued backwards.

Hands grabbed his shoulders. He jumped and turned, facing blindly the man he was sure had been responsible for the fiasco last night.

"Glad to see you're feeling fine."

Al didn't know what to say. He'd cracked a wall. He'd been knocked out and yet nothing felt broken or even sore. He kept his mouth shut, listening while footsteps circled around him.

"I was expecting your older brother to tag along, but you're no less valuable."

Still, Al stayed quiet, listening to the footsteps.

"Although your brother has the reputation of State Alchemist preceding him, the stories about his armor-wearing younger brother never ceased to amaze me. Tell me, did it sting when you couldn't become a State Alchemist because your body was lost? I mean, knowing you'd paid more a toll and couldn't even show it?"

Al threw his body sideways, hitting the body full-force. They both stumbled to the ground and Al felt the bag over his head slide upwards. A sharp shake of his head and it fell off to show him who he'd tackled. The man with the glasses, brown shaggy hair and tan skin. Before he could push himself up, the man grabbed him hard by the upper arm and yanked, sending the unwieldy young alchemist skidding through the dirt floor. Al took a moment to get his knees under him. By the time he did, the man was standing in front of him again. Golden eyes burned hot and he found nothing but anger at the notion that this man had done something to Amelie.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"The name is Roderick."

"Where's Amelie?"

"Oh, she's fine. More than fine, in fact. I healed her, just as I did you. Why? You think I'd hurt her? She's the main reason I started this little venture."

"What do you want?"

Roderick sat cross-legged in front of Al and continued to smile, "I need a toll for the Gate."

Al's heart skipped a beat and he couldn't find anything to say for a moment. He only stared.

The man leaned back on his palms, "That obviously isn't what you were expecting to hear."

"Why would you want to open the Gate?"

"To save someone."

"There's no one to save. You can't bring back the dead."

"No, but I can bring back a body. All too similar to your story, there's a body in the void I need to bring back. The soul is here. So, I need a toll worthy of a body. Amelie is going to help me get it."

"She won't help you. Not for your own personal gain."

"And because I know she won't – believe me, I tried to reason with her – I plan on using you to make her a little more logical. She doesn't need to understand my reasons. She just has to help this country. You were the one who said you and yours needed her and she answered the call. Now, she's helping me, too."

"You're an alchemist?"

"I am. Why?"

"Then you know what she's trying to do."

"Yeah."

"She'll deactivate five of the points in the circle."

"Well, she'll try. After last night, I doubt she'll use the same brand of alchemy again. Thinking I won't be knowledgeable enough to redirect various other forms of energy. And she's right. I'm ignorant of most of the other brands of alchemy. Then again, that's why I have you."

"Why me?"

"Hostage."

Al let out a bitter laugh. Roderick eyed him, that smile wavering for a moment, "You find that funny, obviously."

"She won't let me be a token. I'm not that important to her," Al's laughter subsided.

Roderick's smile returned, "And your brother? Do you think he'll stand by if there's something he can do to save you?"

"He won't hurt anybody. Not for me."

"What about Amelie? Do you think she'll be able to just explain away what happened last night? Especially now that she has a stone she swore up and down she wouldn't make?"

Al's last bit of confidence shattered and he stared at the man across from him, "You..."

"Well, it'll be interesting, to say the least. I'm looking forward to it. I can see it now. A three-way melee to dig for the truth. Amelie versus your brother versus General Mustang. Each fighting to save someone they love."

"You planned this. You're turning her into the scapegoat."

"Well, yeah. Could you think of a better one? The way I see it, Amelie will continue trying to erase the circle under the country. She'll think she's doing her brother a favor, not to mention that by doing so, she'll be saving you. True as that is, it'll only mean that your brother will distrust her because you're not around. And when he finds out she has a stone...I can imagine both he and Mustang will be after her to kill her. Although, it would have been funnier if you were switched with that brother of yours. Seeing you strike her down would've been priceless."

"She's done nothing wrong."

"She's a murderer wearing the skin of a martyr. A skilled alchemist who has no rival now that your father is dead. She's a survivor. She's killed before to save her skin and she'll do it again. So, what do you think will happen when your brother goes after her?"

Al's body was shaking, his fists clenching and unfurling while he was incapable of throwing the punch he wanted. Roderick stood and wiped his hands across each other, free of the dirt. With a simple shrug, the man walked off and closed a wooden door that sealed Al in the room, alone. Head bowed, eyes burning holes into the earth, Al couldn't follow.

* * *

He'd seen the white hair across the plaza and had restrained himself from calling out Amelie's name. Her feet were methodically and quickly carrying her away and it was all he could do to not throw up a stone wall and stop her. Winry held his arm as they walked briskly towards her. She was keeping him from running. She was silently telling him not to make a scene.

Amelie stopped walking and turned, looking directly at them. Her eyes met Ed's and for a moment, neither of them did anything. Her face wasn't apologetic, but perhaps thoughtful. As if she were studying him and seeing him for the first time.

She turned and continued walking. Ed straightened and didn't let Winry's hold stop him this time. Charging ahead, walking steadily and angrily closer, he grabbed at Amelie's arm the moment he was within reach. He could feel her skin tingle, her boundless skills barely restrained.

"Where is he?"

"Who?"

"My brother," he growled.

"I don't know."

"Was he with you last night?"

Her brow furrowed, "Last night?"

"Did you do the transmutation last night and was he with you?"

"No. And no."

"Then that brings us right back around to: where is he?"

"I'm not a babysitter. And I doubt he needs supervision."

"I'm not buying it. Where were you last night? And why isn't there any change at the hospital?"

"I was trying to do the transmutation. I missed the window. Now, I have to wait. There's no point waiting here when I can work on the next point."

"So, you're just leaving."

"Yes."

"And you have no idea where Al is."

"No."

"You know I don't believe a bit of this."

"It would seem so."

"I'm not going to ask again."

"Even if you did, you'd get the same answer."

"Ed, let's go," Winry gave a gentle tug on his arm.

"I'm not leaving until I get some better answers."

"You mean until you hear what you want to hear. It's a very childish outlook."

"Shut up. You don't know what we've gone through and I'll be damned if you're the one who hurts him."

Amelie sighed, "I'm not a fighter. I'm not a very good physical match for anyone. So if you think fighting me is what you have to do, go right ahead. In the end, I'll be forced to use alchemy. I'll make one move and you'll be incapacitated. Then, I'll leave and let your girlfriend take care of you. You won't have accomplished much."

Ed's automail fist was shaking, the metal clanking against itself, "Imagine if it were Roy."

The Soul Alchemist's calm and tired face never wavered, "I would have faith that he was still safe. I would keep moving. But my brother isn't your brother. And you can't guilt-trip me into telling you something I don't know. And on that note...take care of yourself."

"You're still just leaving?" Winry asked.

Amelie nodded, "Having the famous Fullmetal Alchemist with me doesn't help my mobility."

"If you hear about Al..." the mechanic started.

"I'll be sure to send word through my brother," she finished.

Ed didn't meet her gaze while she looked for it, only kept his searing eyes downward. His body was rigid, his arms straight down at his sides. A moment spent searching for some sign of acceptance on his part and Amelie gave up and walked away. Winry's hand on his back wasn't so much soothing as it was a reminder that he couldn't loose his head. Al wasn't helpless. Nor was he weak. True, his body had still a ways to go before it was completely healthy again, but he was in no way weak.

Finally looking up, he watched that white hair melt into the crowd. She became invisible. He supposed years spent as a fugitive had given her that talent. He'd lost her, and he doubted he could find her again if he wanted to. And he couldn't go with her. Couldn't take the chance that Al would show up at the hotel and be missed. Couldn't risk exposing her to the brass that would kill her; right now, she was still the best bet to deactivate the dormant circle.

"Ed, let's go back to the hotel," Winry said cautiously.

"She knows something. Just like her damn brother. I know she's keeping information from me."

"But General Mustang never did it out of malice, you know that. If she's doing the same thing..."

"She's not him. I might not like the guy, but I know I can rely on him. I can't say the same for her."

"Come on. Let's just wait at the hotel and see if he comes back. We don't know if he just—"

"Just what?" he cut of her off gently, "Went for a walk in the middle of the night and forgot to come back? Or decided to go home?"

"Maybe he realized she was missing and followed her. This place is like a maze. He might've gotten lost."

Ed shook his head, "Not Al. No way."

She sighed, "I'm only saying there might be a reason. You can't jump to blame Amelie."

The golden-haired alchemist eyed her skeptically, "You're starting to sound a lot like Al."

"Give her the benefit of the doubt. If she wanted to hurt you, she could've by now."

Ed hated to admit Winry was right. And what Amelie had said was truthfully blatant. If they were to fight, Ed would have the upper physical hand. He could overpower any punch she threw, any kick she tried. But the moment she felt threatened, her alchemy would be what she used. And with the display of raw power she'd shown, he doubted he could hold his own for very long at all after that. Just that knowledge sickened him. He didn't like the idea that he and Al weren't in her league. That she was damn-near untouchable. It made his skin crawl. Someone that powerful couldn't be trusted, at least to no real extent.

The white hair had long since vanished and Ed couldn't even say he'd never stopped looking. She was gone, all knowledge of what might've happened to Al leaving with her.

The walked back to the hotel was quiet and dense with unsaid thoughts. Winry kept her arm around Ed's elbow, her eyes downcast while the alchemist's attention was on the passing crowds. His brother's golden hair was no easier to miss than Amelie's white halo. Arriving at the hotel without a single sight of his brother only dampened Ed's mood and he all but yanked the door to his room off its hinges once he got to it.

"Your brother is missing," a voice said from the corner.

His first reaction was to pull Winry behind himself, flicking on the light to the drawn-curtain dark room. A man standing lazily in the corner smiled at him. His glasses were opaque. His brown hair and golden skin didn't blend in once the light had come on. His outfit seemed more southern than Amestran. But Ed stayed quiet. He wasn't about to be baited.

"Of course, you've figured that out, haven't you?"

"Unless you've got a death wish, you'll spill what you know and leave."

That leer never fell, "I know that Amelie isn't on your side."

"She said she didn't know where Al was," Winry said quietly.

"Oh, did she now? She knew he was missing. She watched him get kidnapped."

Ed scoffed, "Al? Kidnapped? I doubt it."

"Your brother isn't a suit of armor anymore, kid. He's flesh and blood, just like us. A surprise attack, an injury, and its very likely he wouldn't be a threat."

Standing straighter, Ed eyed the new visitor with dark, burning eyes, "You seem to know an awful lot about us."

"Who hasn't heard of the great Fullmetal Alchemist? And as far as your brother...I was a fan of him, too. So, when I say that Amelie isn't on your side, I'm telling you that out of respect."

"But if she doesn't know where he is, how is that going to help us?" Winry asked.

"I'm not so concerned with her omission as her scheme. She's a dangerous woman."

"I hadn't noticed," Ed's eyes narrowed, his voice restrained.

"She didn't fail the transmutation last night, actually. She completed it."

"But no one at the hospital was healed," Winry protested.

Ed's eyes went wide while the informant just continued smiling knowingly. The cogs in Ed's head went wild and he raced through the last encounter with Amelie; he'd felt that sensation before. As much as it had been Amelie...he'd thought it was just her remnant alchemy. That she was just too powerful for her own good. But that tingle he'd felt when he'd touched her...

"She made a Philosopher's Stone," Ed hissed through a clenched jaw.

Winry's horrified eyes looked between Ed and the man standing across the room, "She wouldn't...she said so..."

"Oh, but she did. And if she's allowed to continue...I'm afraid of what she might do. I doubt she's not involved in your brother's kidnapping, either."

"If you know all this...you saw it," fists clenched and golden eyes bore a hole into the flooring.

"I did."

"Then you know who took my brother."

"I do."

"Tell me."

"No."

Ed charged. His automail fist turned into a blade and he had it leveled at the man's shoulder. In the moment he brought it across to slice down, the man had spun and grabbed him and, using his own momentum, planted the younger alchemist against the wall, face first. The man's arm was across the back of Ed's neck, the other keeping the automail blade away from his person.

"You really are the reckless one, aren't you?"

Pushing back, grunting, Ed hesitated when he heard a metallic clang. The view from the corner of his eye showed him that Winry had picked up her wrench and planted it firmly against the man's temple. Only, Ed realized, the wrench hadn't even left a mark. The man was unfazed. He sighed and released Ed long enough to spin and push Winry to the ground. Her shocked face gave way to a startled yelp. She fell backwards and landed half on the bed, slumping to the carpeted floor. Taking the moment he was given, Ed twisted and brought the blade to the man's neck.

Nothing happened. Ed felt the automail clang and shiver from the force of the impact.

"If the wrench didn't work, what made you think this would?" the man smiled.

Ed backed away and clapped, turning his automail into a carbon-version. The frigid-grade had the benefit. It turned charcoal black and shone in the dim lamplight. Taking another swing, Ed felt some satisfaction when the blade sliced through the man's hand.

His grin died when he realized there was no blood there. The inside didn't even look like flesh. It was a dull, dove gray.

"At any rate, you can't beat me if you can't kill me. And considering I tipped you off to Amelie's treason, you might consider not trying to."

"Do you know where she's heading?" Ed's posture never slackened.

"No. But I suppose you could figure it out if you tried hard enough. Find her, find the stone, and you might just get your brother back in one piece."

Ed watched as the man disappeared into the floor. His body sank, never leaving any sign that he'd been there in the first place or that he'd transmuted the floor. Pushing his bewilderment aside to rush to Winry's side, He helped her sit on the bed. He turned his blade back into a fist and sat next to her, quickly looking for bruises or injuries.

"I'm fine," she protested gently, "Who was that?"

"He wasn't human. No blood," Ed allowed.

"Do you really think Amelie made a Philosopher's Stone?"

"When I grabbed her in the plaza, I felt something. Power. I thought it was just her, but...it felt too familiar. It felt like I was back in Gluttony's stomach and transmuting myself to get out."

"What would she do with it? She doesn't need that kind of power."

"I don't know. But someone as talented as she is using a stone...it could mean a whole mess of things."

"You think she's being forced to? That whoever took Al is making her do it to save him?"

Drawing in air, Ed shook his head, "I doubt it. Somehow, I don't think she'd let him be used against her. She doesn't care about us. We're beneath her."

"She's human."

"And closer to god than any alchemist alive. Being that powerful's bound to give her a complex."

"But the stone...You should tell Mustang."

"He won't like it," Ed said tiredly.

"If Al were...if he'd gotten involved with something, you'd want Mustang to tell you."

Ed scoffed, "I'm not giving him a chance. She's mine."

Winry faced him, livid faced, "And how do you plan to beat her? You just said she's the most powerful alchemist out there. How do you think you can win, huh?"

"I'll figure it out. No one's untouchable."

"Ed...let Mustang handle this. He has resources. He can get her behind bars without you having to stick your neck out."

"And if she does have a hand in Al being kidnapped? How am I supposed to get him back then? Getting her before Mustang is the only way I'll find out who took Al and how Amelie's involved with it."

"At least call him again."

"No. I already told him she'd disappeared. Call him again and he'll know something's up."

"Ed..." she said warningly, her voice tired.

"You should go back to Risembool. Amelie knows who you are, but at least in Risembool she won't be able to find you."

"No."

"Will you just—"

"No!"

Ed crossed his arms and looked away, "Stubborn..."

"Will you stop trying to get rid of me? I'm not going anywhere!"

He gave an angry little huff, his eyes never meeting hers. She gently took his chin, making him find her gaze. She smiled, kissing him gently. His stiff shoulders relaxed, his body melting. She pulled away, resting her forehead on his.

"You hear me, Edward Elric? I'm not going anywhere."

He swallowed hard, "You'd better not."


End file.
